Dead to Love
by DemonTsunami
Summary: Is Fae blood addictive enough to cause a ancient vampire to reconsider his plans of true death? When Viking vampire and Maker both drink from Sookie, all three must fight the pull of lust, lies, and the blood that binds them.
1. Chapter 1

**Dead to Love**

**By: Demon Tsunami**

**A/N**: This is set in Season Two, during the episode where Godric dies, I always felt that was a senseless waste of a hot character, not to mention the fact that the Bill/Sookie romantic arch was already getting pretty repetitive by that point, she trusts him, she doesn't, he tries, he fails, his ex is psychotic, we get it, let's move on, preferably to something hot, blonde, and Viking. Anywho, this is my take on how I would've liked to see that episode turn out, told from Sookie's POV. Fair warning, I only watch the show, I haven't read the books.

'_In the middle of a gun fight...  
In the center of a restaurant...  
They say, "Come with your arms raised high!"  
Well, they're never gonna get me,  
Like a bullet through a flock of doves...  
To wage this war against your faith… in me,  
Your life...will never be the same.'  
__**-My Chemical Romance**_

**Prolog**: Fooled You…

Starting is easy, but beginning is hard, Gran used to say it, and I know that as long is the sky is blue and the grass is green, Gran is probably right. It's one of those 'just is' things. Anyone can be smart, but my grandmother was wise, and right now, I'm yearning for that wisdom, that guidance, the love wrapped around every word, harsh or praiseful. I think I'll always miss her, but as she would likely say, 'Sookie, stop blabbering and start _talking_'. Alright Gran, I'm on it.

I know where this all started, at Merlotte's, when a tall, ruggedly handsome vampire sauntered in, and stole my heart from the first whispered _Sookie_, and boy can Bill talk, like a Louisiana night his voice is hot, thick, and full of mystique, with that gravel undercurrent that keeps you grounded, I used to think the whole world was right when he said my name, _Sookie,_ like a damned prayer, or a reverent plea, it used to make me feel like a Woman, from my painted toes to my blonde as sunshine hair, it used to make my body sing and my head empty, until there was nothing but Bill and I, just us two, in this perfect gossamer bubble, suspended in paradise. Of course, it just _started_ with Bill Compton, but I suppose it _began_ with Eric Northman. Although, that particular Viking has enough of a ego, so I'd rather not let on as much to him, so to be fair, or noncommittal, and to save myself from another Always Right Eric grin, I'm going to just tell everyone it _really _began with Godric.

The first thing I think of when I see Godric is serenity, not a usual vampire associated word, scary and treacherous come to mind, but not with Godric, from his nearly black doe eyes to his twisting tar black tattoos, the slender, ancient vampire makes me feel as safe and serene as soaking in the sunshine with a glass of ice tea at my side and Gran cooking in the kitchen. Protected, happy, and Lord do I need a solid dose of happy, being around vampire politics sucks a lot of enjoyment out of life, and sometimes it just sucks, period. Speaking of _sucking_, that is precisely how I got myself into trouble, or out of it, depending on who you ask. Don't ask me, I'm a victim of my own life, seriously…

When that bomb went off, spraying chunks of that poor Fellowship of the Sun fanatic everywhere, amidst bits of silver, shrapnel, and explosive, I thought I was a goner. There was no human way to save myself, I was too close to the detonation, too vulnerable to the debris, and way too damn slow to avoid anything, being human has that disadvantage I suppose. There was a vampire way to save myself, although I didn't expect that to pan out, Bill was nowhere to be found, and I figured that eliminated that option on principle, not many vampires like to risk their lives for blonde bar waitresses, they wouldn't have lived so very long if they made it common practice. Okay, time to swallow my pride and just spit it out: Eric Northman saved my life.

Yes, _that_ Eric Northman, the devilishly gorgeous, leather jacket wearing, narcissistic, self centered egotist actually _risked_ himself for me, and boy howdy, color me all shades of shocked. It was dusty, more than dusty, it was hell, smoke and cinders, wails of agony and death, splatters of blood and other yuckier remnants I'd rather not discuss, it looked like someone had taken Godric's beautiful home and let Chucky redecorate. Splinters of wood, hazy faces in the plumes of grey ash and smoke, the scent of explosives and blood in the air, and Eric Northman, beautiful vampire extraordinaire, splayed on the carpet like some fallen angel, his pale blue eyes wide in pain. There are some moments that you'd like to freeze frame, rewind, and begin anew, some that just aren't meant to be, or so it feels at the time, but when Eric rasped, in his convincing, pain filled voice that he was dying, dying _because of me_, I didn't give a single thought to denying him, not one. Damn that's hard to own up to, and I hope to heaven Gran's up there right now nodding her head in approval, because admitting how easy stupid can come to me sometimes, is a darn right humbling process.

He told me he was dying, and no matter how insufferable or annoying he'd been, no matter our numerous differences, I knew the world would be poorer for the loss of Eric Northman, his beauty, his flirtatious nature, his love for his maker, all gone, dissolved into blood and organ goo, just because he'd wrapped me in his arms and shielded me from that blast. However, the only thing grosser than watching a vampire die, in my personal opinion, is being told to suck bullets out of bleeding wounds, that's right, it's icky, as in, the top line of EWWWW. I don't care how nicely sculpted his chest is, how magnetic those blue eyes can be, especially when filled with vulnerability and pain, the end of the line is: laying down and playing _doctor_ with Eric was the nastiest, grossest, _vilest_ thing I've ever done, and believe me, that's saying something.

The bullets were warmer than his blood, thick metal chunks I gripped in my teeth and spat on the floor like chewing tobacco, and his blood was no picnic either, it tasted like sucking on a dirty penny, it made me feel like I was a champion boxer right before a match, all high and giddy as it soaked into my blood stream, but it still tasted like licking a penny. Not pleasant. Later, much later, I heard Eric was _grinning_ as I did this, pleased as the cat with the canary; apparently my doing so turned the sadomasochistic bastard on, and can I just say, what a treacherous a-hole!

Ahem, sorry Gran, but that's as true as me being stupid.

Moving on. The Eric Northman's Oscar performance wasn't at its completion, I figured sucking out the bullets would allow him to recover, to heal, and I think my poor stomach dropped to about knee level when he informed me (using a good century's worth of acting skills, the prick) that it wasn't, that he needed my blood, that he was still too weak, too injured to heal himself, convincing me he wasn't out of danger yet. Why doesn't someone just go ahead and paint gullible hick on my forehead, then no one would doubt Jason and I were related, and maybe I wouldn't be so surprised every time I prove it to be true.

In other words, I bought it, hook line and sinker.

It's not just his looks, although those probably don't hurt, it's his eyes, his voice, his _everything_, Eric is usually one arrogant, teasing, domineering, cryptic _jerk_, but right then, right there, he looked like one of those angel mosaics people put up in stain glass windows at church. Saintly, beautiful, and sort of sad, and all three of those on him, put together, had me kneeling in the dirt, blood, and silver debris to offer my wrist, wincing as he tore my flesh, lips clasping my wrist, throat swallowing my blood in gulps, as he drank, and drank, and drank…and HEY. I pulled back, scowling, as he smirked at me wickedly while licking his lips in a suggestive manner, eyes filled with wonder and delight. You know that phrase 'give someone an inch and they'll take a mile'? The person who came up with that _must _have known Eric Northman.

Suddenly, playtime, or as I like to call it, _fool Sookie time_ was over, Eric sprang up like someone had lit a fire under his finely shaped ass, eyes wild and frantic. Later, Godric explained he'd been shielding his child, keeping Eric from knowing his pain, because he'd been observing my administrations and saw no dire need to interfere. I don't blame him, interfering is sort of hard with a three foot metal pipe going through the middle of your rib cage, and he could sense Eric's pain as well, although in his unstable state, he had a hard time separating the two, and therefore gauging how truly bad off Eric was (join the club), it was only when his strength was well past weakened that his mental block dropped, and Eric felt every inch of his maker's agony flare through his ancient body. That's why he shot up faster than a July 4th firecracker, dragging (yes _dragging_) me along for the ride in a super fast vampire movement by my freshly bitten wrist (which _hurt_ by the way, _badly_, I might add) towards his fallen maker, who stared up at us both with pain glazed, nearly unseeing eyes. To Eric, he gave a soft, fatherly smile, a smile of utter peace, his hand reaching out as if to smooth the horror from the Viking's features. As if to say, this is alright, this is what I want. But Eric was having _none_ of that, no way, no sir.

"Heal him!" He growled, nearly breaking my bones as he shook me, my head flopping like a fish in his violent grasp. I would've done so right then and there, but he was panicking, I believe, and felt the need to add, "Do this Sookie, or I will end you as he dies." Sheesh, what a charmer. I sympathize with Pam, if she has to put up with this sort of thing all the time it's no wonder she's always cranky.

"Eric," Godric's weak, musical lilt reached us, chastening his emotional child's behavior, eyes amused through the glaze of agony. The blonde, furious and frantic, ignored his maker in favor of forcing my wrist to his lips, misery and dread etched across every plane of his handsome face, his lips quickly whispering a foreign prayer as he waited for Godric to drink from my still bleeding wound. Brown eyes met mine in askance, even as Eric began to growl cruel threats in my ear, body pressed alongside mine as he kept my dripping wrist at his maker's lips, promising me worse than death should I fail either of them, like I said: _A-hole_. I watched as my blood dripped on pale lips, inviting him to drink, to heal, but even then, Godric refused to accept it, to open his mouth and swallow, his brown eyes pinned on mine, waiting.

"Please!" I yelled above the din of noise the explosion's aftermath carried, my own eyes tearing as I thought of how horrible it would be to lose Godric, the nicest vampire I'd ever met, the one who'd saved me from Bill's nasty ex, who'd ensured all those humans lived, just to be subjected to _this_. The pipe in his chest was horrifying, coated in a thick layer of blood, and his stomach and pants were dyed a sickly rust red. His already fair skin was bleached far too pale, even for a vampire. "Do it, please, I want you to!" I pleaded, pressing my skin further into his lips than even Eric's brutal grip had done. A few drops pressed through the fleshy barrier, allowing my taste into his mouth. I noticed the moment he decided, at that very instant his nostrils flared, and with a look of regret flashing so quickly I nearly believed it an illusion, brown eyes fluttered shut in acceptance and his now elongated fangs pierced my already torn flesh.

As I writhed in pain, my wrist being suckled at by a man who was alive before Jesus, Eric worked on getting the pipe from Godric's chest, his thick, corded muscles bulging as he ripped it free, spraying the three of us with Godric's blood, and I'm ashamed to admit, I think some of it got into my mouth. I mean, I was panting in _pain_ okay, I wasn't focusing on Eric, I was focusing on OWE! It was an honest mistake, anyone could've done it, but don't try and tell Bill Compton that, the control freak. As far as he's concerned, I should've denied them _both_, I mean, Eric I understand, the overdramatic whiner would've made it, little did I know at the time, but still…

However, Godric was going to die, really die, if I didn't step up to plate, and pardon me, but no one else was volunteering. He was real polite about it too, nice even, (unlike a certain blonde playboy) only drinking what he had to out of absolute necessity, even as a still rather painful looking hole remained in his chest, healing slowly but surely yet not fully recovered, he stopped, his brown eyes clouded with blood lust, and yet, he stopped. Godric was a proper gentleman, licking the wound closed (and not in a wanton fashion like one might expect, or I expect, given my experiences with Bill) but in a nearly clinical manner. Then, with his own blood still spilling on his jeans from a wound that had yet to heal fully, he gave me one of those magnanimous Godric smiles, his eyes afire like amber jewels.

"Thank you, Sookie," he near whispered, awe in his tone, "You are very kind." I nodded, exchanging a smile with the mysterious, and confusing vampire before one of his subordinates came up to inform him of the damage and casualties. That was my cue to scowl at Eric.

"Are you _sure_ he made you?" I demanded, still pissed at the blonde. "I mean, really, cuz you two are _nothing_ alike." I had to ask, because as far as I can tell Godric and Eric are as similar as night and day, one's a selfless purist, and the others a selfish prick. Opposites. It's like they're from totally different poles, hemispheres, _planets_ even, that Godric was responsible for someone like Eric just didn't seem to fit. Like a square block trying to go in a circle hole.

Eric gave me his sexy 'aren't I cute' grin that he likes to flash like some sort of 'get out of trouble free card' (which by the way, does _not_ work on me) and uttered in a smug, teasing way, "Would I lie?" My eyes narrowed, because asking if Eric lies is like asking if the sun will rise tomorrow, better chance than not. Given his previous performance, he better thank his lucky stars I wasn't aware of how bad he _had_ lied or he would've gotten more than a slap across the face. My palm connected to his face with a crack, and it felt like smacking a brick, to be perfectly honest, it probably hurt _me_ more than it hurt _him_. He seemed stunned, fangs distended, eyes narrowed as he slowly turned back to face me, violence in his stare.

"I am not a drink box!" I yelled at him, "You don't go around offering me to your friends as you please! Don't you grin at me mister, you're a right pig!" I smacked his chest for good measure, well past the point of pissed. He smirked, snatching my wrist with his vampire speed which is _so_ cheating.

"I love it when you talk feisty," he purred, giving me his best, (and alright, _sexiest)_ slow smile, his thumb lightly tracing the pulse in my wrist. I yanked free, furious, my pony tail cracking like a whip as I spun, stomping off in pure frustration, and smacking right dab into a solid, familiar chest as I did so.

"Sookie," in his mouth, my name sounds exotic, sensual, his large hands cupping my cheeks, "Thank goodness you're alright." Blue eyes poured over me, assessing every gash, every drop of blood, every blonde hair out of place, and then, as if a switch was flicked, his expression morphed to violent hostility and Bill began to growl, a low, angry noise in the back of his throat. Suddenly our sweet reunion wasn't so sweet, the relief I felt at seeing him alive and well vaporized like fog beneath a summer sun, as if it never was to begin with.

"Where is he?"Bill hissed, lips pulled back to reveal his glittering white teeth, his eyes were murderous, his grip on my face wasn't even comforting anymore, it was almost painful, full of tension. He looked like a man on edge, panic in his eyes so acute it was nearly as bad as Eric's expression when he believed Godric was dying the true death. Pure, undiluted fear mixed with a good amount of old fashioned dread.

"Who?" My tone is as blank as my head, when Bill's that close, I can't function properly, let alone think coherently. He snarls again, shaking me out of my 'I love my vampire boyfriend' haze. I was so happy to see him too, so glad that he was okay. Then I start thinking again, and all that happiness fades.

"Eric," He hissed the name like a filthy curse, no longer looking at me, heck, I wasn't even there to be looked at. He'd suddenly shoved me behind his tall frame with vampiric speed, his hand barring me from moving from where I was pressed against his back, sapphire eyes trained on the taller, smirking vampire leaning ever-so-nonchalantly against a still mostly intact wall across from us, arms crossed, chest bare and framed in black leather, arrogantly smug and posed like some GQ model at a photo shoot. He has no right looking so gorgeous while being bloody and shirtless; it's a crime against nature, pure and simple.

Anyway, Eric has a look on his face like he just got everything he wanted for Christmas and then some, and being Eric, he wasn't about to pass on an opportunity to be antagonistic, "She's exquisite," he all but purred, "I believe I'm starting to see the fascination." I don't think he could've provoked Bill more if he'd tried.

"Sookie is mine!" Bill lunged rashly, blinded by jealous fury, only to swatted back by Eric like an annoying fly, thrown into the wall to my left, plaster raining like snow in his midnight hair. The would-be attack only seemed to amuse the older vampire further, luckily for Bill.

"Careful," Eric warned, eyes alight with mirth while he licked his lower lip sensually, "I just might be tempted to change that." This time, I held Bill back, stepping in front of my boyfriend with a bone to pick of my own.

"You will not," I told him indignantly, earning an amused appraisal from the caustic vampire, "You listen here Eric Northman, I just saved your life, the least you can do is behave!" I don't know which part made him laugh harder, that I actually believed he would've died without my assistance, or that I actually thought he'd behave. Both were pretty ridiculous, thinking back on it.

"Sookie," Bill began gruffly, eyes full of skeptical pity, "You did not save Eric's life."

"The _hell_ I didn't," was my outraged sputter, I still had his blood around my mouth from when I sucked _bullets_ from his _chest _for crying out loud, there was no doubt in my mind that I'd just spared the Sherriff from true death, he should be groveling, thankfully, not provoking my boyfriend. Eric's crystal blue eyes met mine from across the sparse distance, and I fought the urge to strangle him as I recognized the mockery that danced in their depths.

"Actually," his smirk was so irritating, "I may have exaggerated the seriousness of my condition," he flashes me a wolfish grin, teeth exposed, "slightly."

"I sucked silver _bullets_ from your chest! I _drank_ your _icky_ blood!" I squealed in post-traumatic hyperventilation, horror engulfing me as my mind tries to process the sheer _wrongness_ of this all. Eric was on cloud nine and naturally, Bill didn't help matters.

"You did what?" He snapped, eyeing me as if I've grown a third eye, and I gave him the dirtiest look I could muster, complete with lip curling.

"I nearly died," a meaningful look at Eric, "for _real_, and that-that-that…!" My Gran raised me to be a lady, and so my brain groped for something that described the sheer of audacity of what I felt that didn't counteract with my good upbringing, "_jerk_ saved my life, he took three silver bullets for me, I honest to God thought he was dying!" I pleaded with Bill for understanding, for compassion, for forgiveness, eyes filling with tears, burning with betrayal, "You Prick!" I added towards the now positively smug Eric Northman, his eyes roving my heaving chest in male appreciation.

"This is more serious than you know," Bill uttered gravely, his expression intense, entirely indiscernible in emotion to my desperately searching eyes, "He will be able to sense you now, know your emotions, where ever you go, he will be able to find you," Bill's words are harsh, laced with loss, tinted by regret, his lips pull downward as he says the last, eyes hard with jealous rage, "You will dream of him, _desire_ him," his voice was all gravel then, no sweet crone to lessen the pain his callous words fill me with, "I warned you of his treachery, and _still_ you fell prey to his manipulation."

Shame is like an itchy wool blanket, it envelopes a person, thick and uncomfortable. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, all I felt was wrong, lost, like I'd suddenly been walked to the gallows and told to jump, with the noose hanging tightly around my neck.

"I will never forgive you," I told Eric, my chest heaving, eyes slitted in fury at the knowledge that this entire hopeless situation was the product of his selfish impulse. I let myself fill with a righteous anger, let it cook and bubble in my gut at the thought of how much his actions would cost me, both then and there, and in my future as well. It shocked me how easily Eric had taken from me, used me, all for his own twisted amusement, I knew he wasn't exactly choir boy material, but this was way beyond anything he'd done to me so far, this was unforgivable.

"You were superb," he complimented with a wink, and Lord help me, I never wanted to throttle a man so much in my entire life, undead or otherwise. I stomped my foot, letting out a frustrated cry of pure, guttural irritation with the vampire before me. He turned to Bill, the picture of false innocence, "You know, you're right, I _can_ feel her."

"I can't do this," I announced to them both, flinging up my hands for emphasis, "I need to find Jason." How could I have forgotten Jason was there as well? At that point, finding my brother was a blessed distraction, and a desperately needed one. I left them to their vampire politics, deceit, and possessive male tendencies with a distraught glare in both their directions, not turning back once to see how my exit had affected them.

True, untainted relief flooded me as I discovered Jason's familiar, and safe, profile across the room, that nearly blank, yet simultaneously grateful and awed look on his face as he stared at the surrounding carnage, thankfully unharmed. I rushed to him, arms wrapping about his leanly muscled form like we were still kids, the scent of his cologne flooding me, memories of family, home, warmth, all of them coming too quickly to be stemmed off. The sum of their emotional pull was almost strong enough to break through the broken remains of my crumbling façade of outward calm, but I refused to be reduced to a sobbing mess, not there, not then. Jason held me as if he knew I needed to be kept together, squeezing me as if he could make the pieces stay, he may not be the brightest, but when it matters most, my big brother is there for me, willing to protect me, loving me in his own, understated way.

He began mumbling apologies into my hair, calling the Fellowship of the Sun a bunch of 'fuckers' (his words Gran, not mine) cursing them for their treachery, for his own stupid belief in their bigoted practices and delusional justifications. At that moment I knew exactly what it felt like to be taken in by a bunch of people you thought you could trust. My forgiveness was swift, unconditional, the boy once let himself get talked into wearing a dress on Sunday for Pete's sake, he wasn't exactly NASA material, and people like those bigots at the FoTS would only have preyed on that. Much like a certain century year old vampire had preyed on _my_ naivety, used it against me, making me do something I would've never, ever done of my own free will. I understood Jason's regrets perfectly, because at that moment, they reflected my own perfectly.

"Let's go," I implored. Jason, God bless him, stared at me in that dazed manner that showed he was trying to work something out in that empty storage space he uses for a brain. Okay, so maybe that's less than gracious, but older brother or not, that boy's skull is filled with rocks, rocks and good intentions, but mostly rocks.

"What about Bill?" He gave me that lost, puppy dog look that never fails to make Tara smile, his eyebrows drawing downward as he took in the state of me, bloodied, clothes torn, hair a wild dust and debris filled mess. "He got out okay, didn't he?" Any other time, I would've marveled at the genuine concern in Jason's voice, he'd never exactly been supportive of Bill and I, but even a blind man could see he was set on trying, maybe something good did come out of the FoTS after all.

"Yes," was my clipped response, expression disgruntled.

"Shouldn't we wait for him?" Jason shifted from foot to foot, scratching his sandy brown hair with his fingers as he tried to suss out what was going on with Bill and I that my attitude has suddenly shifted so much on his behalf. I shook my head, the lank tendrils of blonde hair from my pony tail smacking my face as I dismissed the suggestion.

"He'll catch up." I didn't want company, not the sort that would put demands on me anyhow. Jason was blissfully simple, a reprieve from all the other men in my life.

So to keep myself busy, and my thoughts off what had just transpired, I meditated on the bath I so badly needed. All I could think about right then was a good long soak, to sit a spell and wash off all the grime, blood, and shame on my skin, to let the bubbles and steamy bath water just marinate my troubles away, soothe out the stiffness and pain in both my body and soul, not to mention the pain in my suddenly bruised heart. Gran told me soaking up sun and water was like medicine for the soul, it cleansed a person, washed them of their troubles, and seeing as there wasn't much sun to be found in the middle of the night in Dallas, Texas, I'd settle for a good amount of hot water and a few of those bath oils.

We ended up making it into a cab at the end of the street that drove us straight to the vampire hotel we'd been staying at, I didn't even blink as I sauntered up to the front desk, smiling my working girl smile, all sweet country charm, and told the unimpressed and perpetually unfazed receptionist standing there to get my brother a room, and to put it on Eric Northman's bill. As far as I was concerned, the bastard owed me.

Jason blinked in confusion at the name I gave the posh brunette woman behind her thick, glossy black counter, but then shrugged it off with his usual good natured ambivalence, apparently deciding it wasn't worth the comment. He was eyeing the whole place curiously, like a country kid thrust into a big city for the first time, his eyes seemed to get more and more saucer-like the farther we went, and by the time I handed him his key card he looked plain old dumb struck, and slightly over whelmed. I patted his shoulder in reassurance and promised him I'd come and get him as soon as I'd freshened up. Pacified, he had a fine time playing with the key card, eyes lighting up as the thick black door swung open, a boyish grin of delight spreading across his tanned face as he gave a long, impressed whistle at the nicely decorated interior, before running into the room gung ho and leaping feet first onto the snow white bed that occupied the far wall. I left him to his explorations, knowing any damage he caused while playing with things would be charged to Eric's bill, and that thought made me smile for the first time that night.

Back in my own room I shed my filthy clothes, stripping them from me with careless abandon and tossing them in a heap on the bathroom tile before filling the white porcelain tub with a surplus of steamy, oil scented water. I immersed in the water with a croaked groan, every sore point in my body began to soothe at the heated temperature. Somewhere in the midst of lavender soap, grapefruit conditioner, and rose bath oils, lethargy began sneaking up on me. It started with my feet, then my legs, spreading to my belly, back and shoulders, my body going lax, limp, the warm water lapping at my freshly scrubbed skin like a tender lover, the flowery scent of roses mixed with a tang of citrus enveloping my senses, causing me to breathe deeply and lean my head back against the cool porcelain, the contrast of cool and warm delicious on my sore, overworked body. Kidnapping, almost rape, and near death experiences can take a lot out of a girl.

Somewhere, distantly, I registered Bill's entrance into our shared room, but instead of my natural reaction of relief and comfort, I just felt queasy, uncertain, and even more shocked that one night could so completely change my reactions to him, to the man I loved. Lorena aside, his earlier judgment had been swift and absolute, and I realized, sinking farther into my cocoon of sudsy water, he'd hurt me with his careless words, damaged something in our relationship that I was too darn tuckered out to try and figure out, let alone fix. Tomorrow, I told myself, I'd think about that tomorrow. Gran would've laughed and called me Scarlet O'Hara for putting things off like that.

It wasn't long until the steamy water and long night took its toll, submersing me in a hazy, unconscious state, my body limp, my brain drifting into slumber.

_When my eyes flicker open, I'm swathed in the sensation of cool silk, velvety soft muscle, and a heavy weight across my very bare belly, a man's arm, to be exact, and the fact that it doesn't look at all like Bill's, my rightful boyfriend and lover, jolts my heart into a thudding tempo of confusion. In fact, a quick cursory evaluation reveals I've got a lot bigger problems than a naked belly, as in a naked everything else, and a smug, equally underdressed Viking wrapping his two hundred plus pounds of gloriously cool muscle around me like a human blanket, his mirth filled aqua eyes boring into me expectantly, his dexterous fingers toying with the smooth flesh of my shoulder, tracing the silky texture of my hair. _

"_This is not funny," I mumble, disgusted, or so I should be. He cocks his head, letting me pull away from his explorative embrace with a wry, quirky smirk, his eyes glittering in predatory delight as my seated position puts my far too exposed breasts at his eye level, making matters worse instead of better. There's a peculiar blush enflaming my cheeks, tinting them apple red, a deep, pooling heat building in places that have no business responding to Eric Northman! _

"_Do you have any idea how pissed I am at you?" I hiss, snatching the silk sheet and clutching it to my chest like a life preserver. Eric's looks are dangerous as a rule, naked Eric is a lethal assault on my senses, and even his dream self is aware of it, smugly raising his leg so white silk cascades like rippling cream from his ivory skin, riding devilishly low on his muscled thigh, I can't resist the temptation to peek, although it'll probably be the ruin of me. Cad that he is, he notices, lips twisting in satisfaction._

"_Why don't you show me?" He suggests in a fiery purr, raising his eyebrows in expectation. Oh boy, he's even insufferable in my dreams. Sexy, flirtatious, but undeniably insufferable, and heaven help me, I am suffering. _

"_Why are we naked?" I ignore his suggestion petulantly; I won't cheat on Bill, even in my sleep. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his features, his distended fangs proving he's excited, and causing me to swallow convulsively. _

"_Because while possible, lovemaking while dressed is rather less than enjoyable," he supplies in a wickedly arousing manner, voice like sin and damnation, his lips quirk in amusement, "We could always try it, though, I do enjoy a challenge..." Boy howdy, Lord have mercy and ect…_

"_Stop seducing me!" I protest in outrage, only to earn myself an amused chuckle from my naked companion. He slowly slides his hand across the silk, fingers stroking, toying, the most obscenely suggestive look in his eyes, and my breath grows labored as I imagine white silk being replaced by bronze flesh, my flesh, to be exact, all that wondrous control and experience lavished on me, it's more than tempting, it's nearly irresistible. Crap and corruption. _

"_Stop letting me," he suggests, arching a blonde eyebrow in challenge. I suck in a greedy, shaky inhale, fighting the excess amount of heat in my belly, the tingling need building at the apex of my thighs. Think of Bill, I tell myself desperately, and only Bill. _

"_Don't you dare," I warn, pointing a finger at him so he can see how very serious I'm being, "this is all your fault, you big faker." His teeth catch the extended digit, velvet tongue stroking the flesh before I can yip and snatch my poor, tingling finger back. _

"_Big, yes," he half growls, arms snaking about my middle, fingers grasping the lush curve of my hips, his bright blue eyes bear into me, piercing me, "But there will be no faking tonight, lover." His grin is pure sex, temptation and desire, "When you scream my name," he adds, hands massaging my hips in a totally unfair way, "there'll be no more faking," his thumb brushes my lower lip, voice a husky purr, "no more denying." _

"_The only way I'm screaming your name is if you don't quit molesting me, you oversexed Neanderthal!" His eyes brighten further, nearly feverish as in my temper I foolishly allow the silk to slip from me, white fabric dripping down to reveal perky sun kissed skin, and erect, rose hued nipples. _

"_Your lips say no," he growls, voice thick with arousal, and suddenly I was beneath him, his face inches from mine, his sweet breath pouring over my face, his hard thigh nestled between my legs, "But your body says Eric, fuck me until I can't stand." _

"_You have such a dirty mouth," my voice is too breathless, too needy, even though I'm trying to be stern and disapproving. He grins roguishly, triumph etched on his full, pouty lips. His extended fangs glint in the candle light, eyes on my neck. I realize his intentions a moment too late, his head flashing down, fangs piercing skin. _

"ERIC!" I woke up so suddenly the water in the tub sloshed violently, spilling over the sides in a frothy frenzy. My arms flailing, legs kicking, mouth gasping, it takes me a good solid minute to realize I'm not in some silk covered bed, but in fact, still in the bath, my fingers raisened by the long amount of time I've been soaking. The once warm water had grown tepid, nearly cold.

Bill was there, hooded blue eyes watching me, my dress in his large hands, a pained and yet angry look on his face, lips thin, jaw tense. I swallowed, wincing as I slid back, my hand fluttering uselessly towards my flushed face, I could only imagine what conclusion he derived from my shouted cry, my traitorous mouth screaming another man's name, my body trembling, flushed with rage and to my utter shame, desire. Well shit.

"Bill I'm so-"

"We've got company," he cuts me off, dropping a lilac sundress on the counter, his eyes, usually so warm, are like molten glass. They only reflect, not letting me glimpse what lies beneath. A pair of strappy sandals drop from his fingers next, echoing hollowly on the floor, shortly followed by a selection of white lace under things, the cynical side of me couldn't help but wonder if that was a subtle reminder of who'd had me first, of the virgin girl I'd once been. A lump of distress started to build in my stomach.

"I wasn't-" I tried again, eager to defend myself, to let him know the worst wasn't true, but he sighed, giving me a look of such betrayal my heart lodged in my throat, blocking off my words.

"Don't, Sookie, just don't," his tone was weary, world worn, like a man who'd given up. It made me angry, _his_ psychotic ex comes in and tries to kill me and _he's_ playing victim? What about how he spent the day and night with _her_, while I was being held prisoner and then nearly raped? As Tara would say, oh _hell _no.

"Later," He said gruffly, giving me a meaningful look, probably sensing my emotions through the bond, the cheat, and when _was_ he going to enlighten me to all the _lovely_ side effects of blood sharing? I've started to suspect sometime around never, which is just plain deceitful. Gran would agree, she always told me a lie by omission was a lie someone tried to give a long name to, didn't mean it was less of a lie, it just meant they had less of a chance of being caught in it.

"Fine," I snapped, rising from the tub, completely oblivious to the water I sent splashing on the nice floor, my motions jerked and angry, my face set in a stubborn scowl. I toweled myself off quickly, not sparing the vampire in the room with me a single glance, pulling my lilac sundress over me so harshly I nearly ripped one of the delicate straps in the process, and shoving my feet into the sandals so hard my toes smarted. I ran my fingers through my damp hair, not even bothering with a brush and clumped it in a severe pony tail, the glimpse of my reflection enough to convince me it was a lost cause anyhow. My eyes were ringed in purple black, and I had a few gashes and cuts from the explosion, the most noticeable the bruise across my left cheek, where Eric's hand cradled me from the blast.

So lost in my anger, I plumb forgot Bill's saying we had company, standing like a gaping cod fish as I eyed the two new additions to our room. One was Eric, the prick, and I gave him a good and long glare, still as irritated with him as a poked grizzly. The other was less expected, but appreciated, given the first vampire's identity, Godric was leaning against a wall, dressed in a fresh white t-shirt and a pair of black slacks, he looked a little anemic still, but overall much better than last I glimpsed him. As in, not covered in blood and half dead. When he noticed my stare he gifted me with a small, serene smile, his hands idly fiddling with a bottle of cola I'd left on the dresser. He eyed it in brief intrigue before replacing it to its previous spot, his gem-like eyes flickering over the room in interest.

"It's not long before I must retire," Bill announced, prodding me into the room and eyeing our guests levelly. I tried not to notice that Eric had changed too, now he sported a too tight black tank top, and a pair of those painted on leather pants, he looked dangerous, the perpetual bad boy, Lucifer incarnate. It illuminated his blue eyes, enhanced his gold hair, until he appeared every inch the fallen angel, the holy sinner.

"We will be brief," Godric promised, his dulcet tone never ceased to sooth the tension from a room, and I felt myself smile at him before I made any conscious decision to do so.

"Sookie Stackhouse," he began softly, "I believe I am now in your debt." His eyes were kind, smile small but infectious, "If not for your generous interference, I believe I would be dead to this world."

"Seeing as you drank my blood and all, I think it's alright if you call me Sookie," was my interjection, he nodded slightly, "And honestly, given as you kept me from being raped, and then killed, I think we're pretty even on that account." That strange smile quirked his lips.

"Sookie," he revised, showing that he at least listened better than his child, "During the events of the past weeks, I had resolved myself to death," at this he gave a derisive smile, "I did not plan to see another night, at least, not in this form, on this plane of existence, it was my wish to meet the sun, and know the true death," he worded eloquently, drawing a hiss of surprise from Eric. He shot his child an indulgent smile, softly touching his cheek, "When one lives as long as I, merely being is a tiresome, repetitive experience, devoid of joy, and devoid of pleasure. You are yet so young," _only_ Godric would call Eric Northman _young_, "I envy your sense of enjoyment, your delight in this life has given me great pleasure, more than you will ever know," he told the blonde gratefully.

"You did not tell me," there was accusation in Eric's tone, but hurt as well, and perhaps a sense of latent grief at the thought of his maker's demise. Godric merely sighed, giving the blonde Viking a fond, nearly parental look.

"You would have made a scene," was his nearly teasing assessment. Eric scowled, crossing his arms and looking away defiantly, like a petulant child, suddenly unwilling to comment further. With a chuckle, Godric turned back to me, "In any case, you have changed my mind Sookie, you have shown me something…new." Well, that's a pretty huge accomplishment, given his age and all, even Eric looks surprised.

"Why Sookie?" Bill demanded, midnight eyes brimming with suspicion.

"I will be brief," Godric eyed Bill solemnly, "for I know your time is short. I believe Nan Flannery intends to relieve me of my duties as King of Texas," I gasped in surprise, Eric growled in anger, "I will accept her decision graciously, I have no more desire to rule this land. My attitudes and beliefs no longer coincide with the goals and ambitions of my kind; I feel this is the right decision to make."

"Godric-"

"Silence!" he hissed. Wow, can he ever shut Eric up, I wish I knew how to do that, turning from his now sulking child, he continued, "We have matters of importance to discuss, but I can see now is not the proper time. I would request your presence at sunset, at which point I hope that you will kindly hear me out in entirety," he then turned to Bill, "The matters I have to speak to you about are grave, Mr. Compton, I confess I hope you will prove yourself to be the vampire Sookie speaks of, but as of this point, I must insist Miss Stackhouse remain with Eric during the day's duration."

"WHAT?" That's my loud, shocked outcry. It was all going so well, too… I think at that point I was too exhausted to manage more than 'what', but that cry in and of itself summed up my entire reaction to his statement. Godric's announcement seemed to provoke two equally intense reactions from the other vampires in the room. Bill looked slightly lost, and very upset, while Eric perked up, getting that viciously amused look that just proves how utterly delighted he was.

"Sookie stays with me," Bill corrected, draping an arm around my waist and pulling me to him. At this point I was too tired to fight, mutely eyeing the room's occupants in weary acceptance. I slumped into Bill's solid, cool weight, holding his protective arm like a comfort pillow and pressing my back along the ridges of his front, melding into him as I'd done so many times before. He nuzzled my head with his chin, eyes hard as he mutely challenged the two other vampires in the room.

"Do not press this," Godric suggested, "I have given Eric very specific instructions in regards to his behavior towards Miss Stackhouse, he will not disobey me," and probably for my benefit he added, "he cannot."

"I will not allow Sookie to be trapped with that animal," Bill growled, eyeing Eric in loathing. The Viking's blonde eyebrows shot up in mocking surprise, a smirk teasing at the edges of his mouth.

"Tough words for such a little boy," was Eric's nearly bored observation. I felt Bill's silent growl vibrating through my back, his frame stiffening in hostile tension.

"It is not Sookie I worry for," Godric replied in a blasé lilt, earning a startled look from myself, "I believe she can hold her own against my child very well," he gives me a briefly amused look before turning back to Bill, "and as I have promised, no harm or discomfort will come to her, it is in _all_ our best interests that Sookie remain safe and protected. She has nothing to fear from me or mine."

"She stays!" Bill argued loudly, desperate, even I know vampires shouldn't show their emotions so obviously. It seems the events of the night had shaken Bill more than I'd originally guessed. Between his psychotic Maker nearly murdering me, the explosion that resulted in my exchanging blood with two more powerful vampires, and the consequent incident in the tub minutes ago, I could understand his reluctance to part with me. It seemed each time we separated, our situation only worsened. His possessiveness, something I was still getting used to, was warranted, but not welcome. Godric sighed, disappointment heavy in his luminescent gaze as he surveyed Bill, the older vampire seemed almost sad to have to speak his next words, but perhaps that is because, in my eyes, Godric always appears somewhat sad, despondent even.

"As King of Texas, I order you, Bill Compton, guest in my territory, to release your human into the care of Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area Five, until sunset has fallen," it was all so formal, so final, the musical lilt in his words could not dull their harshness. Bill snarled beneath his breath, frantic eyes as they jumped between the blonde leaning menacing against the wall, and his slighter, yet stronger, Maker standing in the center of the room, looking like a fallen angel, or holy prophet. A tattooed angel, with lean muscle and deep, sky colored eyes.

"Sookie is mine!" Bill took a precautionary step backwards, wrapping me to him more fully, his other arm encasing me tightly, as if to grab me and flee. Funny how those words always come out of his mouth sooner or later. Eric growled between his teeth, obviously not pleased to see any form of aggression against his Maker, no matter how laughable the threat truly was in comparison to Godric's centuries of cultivated strength and battle prowess.

"Not today," Eric taunted, obviously trying to pick a fight. Come to think of it, when is Eric ever _not_ trying to pick a fight? I could sense the tension filling the room, thick and vibrant, it stemmed from all three men, and unlike my boyfriend, who seemed momentary blinded to the rising danger, I was sensible enough to know that this fight would not be won by us, not that night. Besides, hadn't we all seen enough bloodshed and gore for one evening?

"Sookie is _tired_," I corrected Bill, stifling a yawn behind my hand. I twisted in Bill's arms, my expression indulgent, I knew that this entire scenario must have been difficult for him, but with Godric's word of honor that I would be safe, I felt nearly ambivalent to spending the night in Eric's room. Nearly.

Perhaps it was foolish to trust someone I had just met, in hindsight, I can see how rashly I acted, but Gran was always telling me to trust my instincts, and my instincts said that Godric wouldn't allow me to get hurt, and I trusted that. Trusted the slender brunette in a way, strangely enough, I could not trust Eric or Bill, who were always keeping things from me, trying to manipulate my reactions.

I touched Bill's cool cheeks, cradling them in my warmer palms and gazing into those soulful blue eyes making sure to speak each word clearly, sincerely, to show him the faith behind my words, "We don't have a choice, and if Godric says I will be safe, I believe him."

His deep blue eyes winced, "Sookie, you do not understand the vampire definition of the word 'safe'," was his soft response. I could only admit he had a point.

"Godric," I used my best, most polite tone, and he tilted his head towards me, indicating that I was allowed to address him, vampire politics are so sexist, or perhaps the term I'm looking for is specie-ist, "Will Eric be allowed to drink from me? Touch me? Force me to drink his blood?" I felt this were the most serious of offenses, given Eric's earlier actions, I felt I could trust _him_ as far as I could throw him, and let me tell you, I wasn't lining up to play toss the six foot four two hundred pound Viking vampire anytime soon.

"No, he will only be allowed to place hand on you to prevent harm to your person, and for no other reason. Despite his earlier behavior, I truly believe Eric is now aware such actions would only serve to further worsen his current condition," he lips tilted in a knowing smile, receiving an impassive look in return from the vampire in question, "He will not wish to ruin his standing in your eyes, nor mine." Yeah, I'll bet he's _so_ worried about that.

"Too late," I muttered irritably at Eric. He smirked, shrugging his broad shoulders to show how very little he cared. To Bill I said, "See? It'll be fine."

"Sookie…" He began, a note of pleading in his voice. Men can be such whiners.

"I'll miss you," I placated, kissing his cheek, "And you will know if I'm in danger," I pointed out logically, kissing the other cheek. He sighed, jaw tense but expression finally, if not slightly begrudgingly, acceptant.

"Do not sleep in his bed," was his only request. I rolled my eyes.

"Not even _tempted_," I promised. Inwardly crossing my fingers and praying it wasn't a lie. Well, it wouldn't have been, if not for Eric's little blood transfusion earlier I would have had no desire what so ever to share his bed, or so I told myself. After all, it's not _my_ fault he's such a good looking flirt! It's not like that means I'll ever _act_ on the attraction.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Eric sing-songed under his breath, earning a mildly disapproving look from Godric. My boyfriend gave him a look that could melt titanium.

"Be safe," Bill growled at me in that fierce, romantic manner that always sends my pulse racing. He pulled me roughly into a deep, toe curling, lip searing kiss that left my mouth swollen and my lips on a perma-grin, a goofy smile that lasted even as I collected my clothes and things. As I rushed about the suite gathering human stuff, such as a tooth brush, make-up, and other miscellaneous items, throwing them into a powder blue duffle bag, Bill decided to see if he could get an explanation for Godric's sudden desire to play musical rooms with the telepath.

"I do not see the necessity of this," Bill announced, standing stock still and glowering at the other two occupants to project his displeasure.

"You wouldn't," Eric supplied dryly. Godric gave him a warning look.

"Sookie is very precious, and at this point, I believe her life to be in immediate danger," Godric replied softly, surprising me. However, I quickly stifled my surprise in favor of grumbling under my breath,

"When is it ever _not_?" As usual, I was ignored.

"Eric is better suited to watch her during the day, as I believe your Maker still harbors malicious intent towards her, and if confronted with one such as her, we both know it would not be you who emerged the victor. Lorena would surely kill Sookie out of her jealous rage. One need not look too closely to see how damaged she is, her sanity has long abandoned her, as well as her logic and self preservation." I blame my not catching it at that point in time on exhaustion, but there happened to be the very good point of argument in the fact that Godric had ordered Bill's maker (and ex) from Texas, and so she was probably the least likely threat I would face that day. However, I didn't think of it, and I suppose Bill didn't either, because he nodded as if it all made perfect sense, seemingly pacified. Bill would always be weaker than that vile woman, by no fault of his own, of course. Eric, however, was stronger by far, Lorena would pose no threat to him, and the way Godric put it, it just seemed so logical, so obvious. Later I'd learn he's got a gift for making _everything_ sound perfectly reasonable, even when it's not.

"Shall we retire, lover?" The flirt tacked the last on just to push Bill's buttons, or mine. Ignoring him, I turned to Godric, smiling perkily even though it was the least genuine emotion I could muster.

"All set, and could you please do that ordering thing now?" I asked sweetly, eyeing Eric warily from the corner of my eyes, "It's not that I don't trust you," I hastened to tell the stoic vampire, afraid he'd misunderstand, "but Eric is a whole other kettle of fish, last time I let my guard down I ended up sucking bullets out of his chest," my nose wrinkled, "which by the way, was totally gross."

"When will you let that go?" Eric demanded, sounding both slightly amused and vastly annoyed.

"Never, you jerk," I told him haughtily, my hand griping my hip, the blue duffle bag dangling from my other wrist like a very chunky bracelet.

"Your honesty is refreshing," come the accented praise, his comment effectively ended my and Eric's spat. "It would be no trouble to allay your fears," he turned to his child, "Eric, as your maker I command you to not lay one finger,"

"Or _fang_," I interjected petulantly, remembering my dream.

Godric smiled indulgently, "Or _fang_, upon Miss Sookie Stackhouse, unless in dire emergency, all that is done to her must be of her consent, or out of immediate protection of her well being." Eric rolled his eyes but nodded. The older vampire turned to me, seemingly amused, "Does this suffice?"

"Oh it's peachy," I grouched, not as relieved as I'd thought I would be, "Can we go now, I'm tired, us humans don't exactly like staying awake for twenty four hours."

"As you wish," Godric nodded, "Come, Eric," he called, "We will give them a moment of privacy." Eric opened his mouth as if to object, but something Godric's stare seemed to convince him it was a bad idea. They went.

A/N: A little light on the smut, I know, I apologize. Yet I don't get how people can write Sookie just falling into Eric's arms (no matter how fun that sounds), there's got to be _some_ resistance, after all, he's a undead cad and she's a naïve little Fae from Bon Temps, and as of yet Bill is still in the way. I'm dealing with that shortly. Read on, review if you like.

Eric: Good reviewers get a special reward.

Author: Like what? A Fangtasia lap dance?

Eric: I was thinking more along the lines of my not eating them, but if you want to hand out imaginary incentives, feel free.

Author: You catch my flies with honey than vinegar Eric.

Eric: Good thing I have very little interest in insects. Now review, or she'll never be inspired to write the good parts.

Author: True story.

Eric: *Tsking* No it's called _True Blood_, idiot breather. *scoffs*


	2. Chapter 2

**Dead to Love**

**By: Demon Tsunami **

**A/N-2: **I had to revise this chapter, Sookie was very emotional, and I felt I needed a little more background as to _why_ our favorite heroine was suddenly an unstable wreck. Hope this one's a little better.

**A/N: **Only one clarification before we start, a reviewer (ericsmine) pointed out a stomach churning reaction to Sookie's constant defense and clingy attitude towards Bill, totally understandable, I've never really understood his appeal to begin with, and I dislike writing her love for him, but feel I have to take it into account. After all, lots of girls can be blinded by that 'first love' and if the rest of the series is any indication, Sookie's _really_ blind to Bill's faults, and willing to forgive him _way_ too easily. However, this will be rectified shortly (promise), as will her very blind dislike of Eric, which stems, by the by, from her inward rejection of the growing attraction she has for him. I mean who could really dislike a sexy Viking vampire as much as she claims to? It's all along the lines of 'I think the lady doth protest too much'…to coin a vastly overused phrase.

'_And I don't know  
How we're just two men as God had made us,  
Well, I can't...well, I can!  
Too much, too late, or just not enough of this  
Pain in my heart for your dying wish,  
I'll kiss your lips again.'__**  
**_**-My Chemical Romance**

**Chapter One:** Forever Isn't Long Enough

People have never been able to talk over my head, not even when I was a small child. No matter how cryptic they chose to be, or how much misdirection they applied, it was just plain impossible. I could hear their real words, whether they said them aloud or not, picking them unwillingly from their thoughts, and for a very long time, I felt like the ability to do so was nothing more than a curse. Who wants to know that the sweet old lady handing you a lollipop is really thinking about the fact that her grandson is in rehab for the third time and her mortgage is about to get messy because of all the money she's been sending him? It takes a lot of the 'simple' and 'innocent' from childhood when nobody can hide anything from you, and so in retaliation, and need for sanity, I discovered a way to hide from _them._ To block them all out.

Still, it had setbacks, it wasn't perfect. A strong emotion could decimate my barriers, and a strong personality could leak through my carefully constructed walls, showing me things I never cared to see, telling me secrets I never cared to learn. After a while, I just learned to accept the fact that my life was going to be a lot harder than most. That all changed when I met Bill, and discovered, at long last, a peace from all the noise and discomfort that constantly surrounded me, from the crippling disability that had prevented me from ever lasting past the first date with, well, with _anyone_. It was bliss, pure, simple, bliss.

And after all that, I never, in a million years, thought I'd resent not being able to hear vampire thoughts, after all, they're practically the only peace and quiet I get. Still, as I was being escorted across the hall, I couldn't help but wish, for the first time, that I could pick Eric Northman's brain. You see, he and Godric had been chatting animatedly in some foreign language since I emerged from my ten minute kiss from Bill, and subsequently my hair was now thoroughly ruined, a mass halo of tangled blonde strands that had no resemblance to a hair style what-so-ever and my lips were tender, swollen with his arduous kisses, heavy and chapped from our nearly adolescent make-out session. They'd taken one look at me and slipped into a heated, indecipherable debate in a language that was definitely not English.

Whatever they were saying, it seemed absolutely fascinating, and yes, Gran, I can hear you now telling me to 'mind my own business,' and I know I should've, but the experience of being kept in the dark was still enough of a novelty to me that I felt I had to butt in. Gran always said I was one part curious, and one part brave, and both those parts were going to get me into trouble some day. She was, as always, completely right.

"This is mighty fascinating and everything, but is there any chance I can go to sleep while ya'all talk gibberish?" I didn't care at the moment if I sounded whiney, or rude, I was too tired, too emotionally wrung to muster much other than annoyance at their behavior. Screw their whole 'speak when spoken to' rule, pretentious vampire politics fell secondary in my list of priorities, landing just below my fear of passing out in the hallway of a vampire hotel. That wouldn't end well for me, I was near certain.

"Yiddish," Godric corrected, brilliant jewel-like eyes flickering to me as if just remembering I was there.

"Right, gibberish," I agreed, too tired to catch the distinction between my words and his. Eric chuckled beneath his breath, earning a perplexed look from myself.

"Apparently, Sookie gets grumpy without sleep," he informed his Maker in amusement.

"Sookie gets grumpy when big bad vampire bullies _keep_ her from getting sleep," I corrected, unintentionally punctuating my statement with a large, wide mouthed yawn that I half heartedly stifled with my hand. Even Godric chuckled at that, huh, I must be funnier half awake.

"She is so very unrefined," he commented. However, given his soft smile, I decide not to take offense at the words; he phrased it nearly like a compliment anyway, and arguing with Godric seemed a bit uppity, even for me. I rubbed one eye half heartedly, shifting my aching feet as I glanced between them in silent bemusement.

"Like a diamond, such a thing defines the value, enhances the appeal," Eric added, softly, thoughtfully, a mute glance passing between him and Godric that I barely caught in passing, and was not able to interpret to save my life. I gave the usually caustic blonde a shocked glance, my jaw hanging slightly ajar. I snapped out of it shortly.

"Careful Eric, that almost sounded sweet," I warned, thrown off-kilter. His eyes crinkled, teeth flashing in an animalistic grin as his eyes met mine meaningfully.

"Of course, cutting and refining has its merits as well," he added in perfect monotone, save for emphasizing the word 'cutting'. I give him an annoyed glare. Well, that was more like the Eric I knew and loathed.

"One more favor?" I pleaded with Godric. His black eyebrows winged upward, expression taken aback.

"I will allow your request," he decided after a slightly tense moment.

"Command him away from sharp pointy things, I don't want to end up _cut_ and _refined_." At my request, Eric let out a bout of very loud, very amused laughter, obviously tickled pink that I was leery enough of him to believe he just _might_ try something so… horror movie. Godric cracked a half-smile.

"Sookie, that will not be necessary," He assured me with an indulgent look, "In some ways, believe it or not, your Sheriff is still much like a small, human child, he teases and prods, but it is merely to see what reaction such a thing would provoke." I don't think Eric could've looked less pleased, in fact, he glowered, looking down right insulted at the insinuation, I doubt anyone but Eric's Maker could've said as much aloud without suffering his formidable Viking wrath. I bit my cheek to keep from laughing.

"Eric, human?" the disbelief must've shown in my voice. That was like saying Jason could be intuitive or Tara subtle, the chances were slim to none on a good day. As far as I'd ever seen, Eric did his best to disprove his humanity, reveling in his vampire lifestyle in a way Bill never could.

"Does it surprise you so very greatly? I will tell you this, Sookie Stackhouse, the remnants of our sense of humanity, when it comes to our kind, is seen as a grave weakness," Godric impressed, his jewel blue eyes serious and intense.

"I will ask you this one thing before I leave you to retire," he stepped forward, lightly moving my hair behind my ear, it should've been too intimate, too familiar a gesture, but I allowed his touch impassively, a sense of wellbeing stealing over me as he secured the strands lightly, his thickly lashed eyes kind, yet filled with a depth of knowledge I could scarcely comprehend.

"Is the humanity one such as Bill Compton showcases, truly the ability to be humane? Does he not abandon the pretense the moment more vampiristic methods are in need? Ask yourself Sookie, why one of our kind would parade such an uncouth weakness before stronger, more able vampires, when such a thing is usually ample incentive to attack," he lightly gripped my forearm, voice intense, heated, "and then, ask yourself why Eric Northman, Bill's rightful Sheriff, and stronger, more able vampire by far, has chosen not to claim what he desires as his, even though he has every right, nay, every _incentive _to."

"You're not making any sense," I complained, my brain dizzy from his cryptic words. He sighed, throwing a mildly disappointed look towards his Child.

"You have not been honest with her," his expression was dead pan (forgive the pun), giving nothing of his feelings away. Eric shrugged one shoulder listlessly, blue eyes blankly gazing off in the distance.

"She does not seek the truth," he responded bluntly, his eyes suddenly narrowing on my now perplexed person, as if blaming me. I didn't get the context, but I knew enough to know when Eric was pointing the finger, the brat. I sighed my own exasperation, rolling my eyes.

"Eric…" Godric began, sounding strangely like a father chastening his son. The taller blonde snarled.

"It is my choice!" He growled. In response, Godric spat something in a European sounding language, his eyes flinty with dislike. The Viking growled something back, crossing his arms and looking decidedly put out. Whatever they were arguing about, they seemed to be at an impasse. For a long, pregnant moment they scowled at one another, glaring daggers across the hall, at great length Godric sighed, shaking his head at Eric's stubborn tenacity before turning to me, something akin to pity in his eyes.

"Until tomorrow, Sookie," the brown haired vampire encased my hand in his stronger, cooler grip, lips lightly brushing the top of my palm before he sped away in a blur of white and black, gone within moments of his farewell grin. Vampires.

"Shall we?" Eric extended a courtly elbow, as always, he played the part of gentleman only as it suited him. Shame that when he put in the effort, he was devastatingly charming, his severe masculinity emphasizing all those old romantic stereotypes of courtly vampires. He looked so dashing, elbow offered, blue eyes twinkling in devious delight, that I nearly forgot how pissed I was supposed to be at him. Nearly.

"You will keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Northman," I responded sourly, no longer quite so amiable or at ease after Godric's sudden departure. Being alone with Eric always made me feel jittery, off balance, it's like somersaulting under water, your stomach flips and gravity ceases, up is down, down is up, and it's all you can do not to get too caught up in the sensation and drown. I would drown in Eric's practiced charm if I wasn't careful, years of pretense had taught him exactly what women liked, and he used it only as an advantage, never as true sentiment, he wasn't like Bill, who loved me and cherished me, Eric just wanted to own me. Use me. I'd be a right fool to let him.

"So formal," he commented, slipping the key card through effortlessly, "and to think your mouth was on my body not hours ago," he mused, earning a irritated glance from me as I pushed through to the room beyond, "moaning as you drank of me," he purred, following me like a overeager puppy, trailing my steps as he teased me in his silk and fire purr, I shot him a scowl from over my left shoulder, dropping my bags with a hard thump, "teeth sinking, _caressing_, body atop of mine, fitting into every curve as you _sucked_..." his voice was husky, guttural, pure seduction, eyes flaming like blue gas, florescent fire. I cut him off.

"You're like one of those guys who pretend to drown just so the hot lifeguard will give him CPR," I complained, "And just so you know, Mr. Ego, those weren't _moans_, I was trying not to throw up. Do you have any idea how _gross_ your blood is?" Super gross, like pennies, I reminded myself, dirty pennies. That I'd felt that tingle, that otherworldly pull that still flowed through my veins like molten lava, hot, thick and wild, meant _nothing_. That it'd affected me to the point where my tongue had been working inside the wounds after the bullets had been pulled was a fact I cared to share with _no _one, least of all Eric or Bill, who would only misread the situation entirely. It wasn't that I'd _liked_ Eric's blood, it was merely that once I'd tasted it, no matter how off-putting the actual flavor, I'd been nearly unable to stop, and that terrified me. Scared me out of my wits.

He chuckled, "What I wouldn't give," he began in a near murmur, "to know what exactly about this discussion we're partaking in scares you so greatly, Miss Stackhouse," he speculated, watching me like a large, motionless predator from where he'd casually seated himself on his large, silk covered bed. I glanced away from the image of him in all black leaning on white silk, flashed images of my unpleasant dream forcing their way into my thoughts, of Eric's naked body and mine intertwined beneath cool ivory silk.

"Learn to live with disappointment," I suggested, ignoring his feral grin in favor of searching through my duffle bag for the PJs I had packed for my 'sleepover' with Eric, having brought with me the least revealing night dress out of all the different items I'd originally packed for Dallas.

Unfortunately, I'd selected all my night clothes in the belief that it would be Bill, and only Bill, that I slept next to during the day, and the majority of what I had, was compromised solely of crimson silk, teal lace, and transparent gauze, all three of which would leave me feeling less than dressed while sharing a room with an incorrigible, flirt of a blonde vampire. Luckily, the modest southern girl still existed in me somewhere, and I'd had the forethought to bring something more than skimpy negligees, unluckily, all that remained after the discarding of transparent silks and lace was still rather risky, the white cotton would cover me, but the nightdress was cut low in the chest and would undoubtedly leave me feeling exposed to Eric's lustful appraisal. At least I had comfort in the knowledge that Eric had seen a lot less on a lot more, I wouldn't be shocking _his_ sensibilities tonight, that was for certain. Still, my virginal white dress, with its thin straps and flowing skirt seemed a _bit_ like dressing the part of the lamb in front of a wolf, but I soothed myself with the knowledge that I didn't really have much of a choice, and that thankfully; this arrangement was only for one night.

Shortly after I retreated into Eric's bathroom, trying not to feel jealous spite over the fact that _his_ room got a Jacuzzi tub, after all, my and Bill's tub was plenty big, it just didn't come with water jets… I hazarded the first real look at myself in the mirror and winced. The left side of my face was purple-red-blue-green, like a fireworks display on gold skin, it looked ghastly, like an explosion under my eye, the unwelcome thought of my not being able to have Bill assist me in healing it until tomorrow surfaced and I scowled, chewing my lip as I took in the rest of the damage. My right arm had a few grazes, as did my left calf, probably mementos from kneeling in the debris to pull bullets from Eric, which just went to figure that I'd get hurt saving his lying behind. The last thing I checked was my wrist, where both Eric and Godric had fed from me, it was already fully healed, and I supposed I had Godric's thoughtfulness to thank for that. I certainly hadn't seen Eric healing it after he'd gotten his fill_. _

When I emerged back into the bedroom, Eric had his own complaint to voice, "Do you always feel everything so _strongly_? Your emotional duress is _tiring_." He was lounging on the bed, shirt off, leather pants still on (thank God), hands stapled behind his head as he peered at me with hooded blue eyes. I tried not to notice the lighting was dimmer, or how it emphasized the masculine definition of his jaw, and sculpted chest.

"That's called Karma, sweetie," I told him in my sugary 'go to hell' tone, marching determinedly to my bags and trying not to focus on the appealing image he made, lying there, half naked, chest exposed and looking oh so 'come hither'. Fucking blood bonds and their sexually stimulating aftereffects. His eyebrows lifted, as if in tune with my thoughts.

"Do you always find looking on me to be so… stimulating?" he purred, instant arousal sparking in his aqua eyes. Curse him and his creepy emotional radar. Eric seemed to have finally noticed how low my nightdress was cut, likely due to fact that I was now leaning over to stuff my sundress back into its bag, and busied himself with leering at my cleavage from his vantage point on the bed, the term chauvinist pig came to mind.

"Get over yourself," I told him wearily, zipping the powder blue bag shut with more force than was perhaps necessary and tying my hair back into a loose pony tail for while I slept. My eyes briefly glimpsed the bed (careful to avoid the Nordic vampire laying there) and flickered away in contempt, due to my promise, me and my sore body would be occupying the floor. I just hoped Bill appreciated how loyal I was, not many girls would abandon a good night's sleep for a guy whose vampire ex had nearly killed her, and who had been omitting certain details about blood sharing. Not that these were unforgivable offenses, but they weren't something I was keen to just brush off either. As Ricky would say, he had some esplaining to do.

"You're irritated."

"Stop with the play by play already, I happen to _know_ how I feel, thank you very little, and I don't exactly like the reminder that you do too," I huffed, glaring, "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep." I eyed the floor, debating whether I should just curl up and use my bag as a pillow, or if I should actually ask Eric to part with a few of the feather stuffed ones on his bed, it wasn't like he could use them _all._ Still, the idea of asking Eric Northman for _anything_, even something as insignificant as a pillow, was decidedly off putting.

"You weren't irritated with _me_," he continued, ignoring my request for _quiet_ and _sleep_, "miffed, aroused, but not truly angered. Yet now, you are fighting a strong impulse to grow enraged, why is that?"

"Gosh, Eric, maybe that's just none of your damn business," my words fell out hard, churlish, "I'm not some side show you can toy with for your own amusement, you think knowing my feelings, invading my _privacy_ by tricking me into believing you were going to die, entitles you to a heart to heart chat? Besides, of all the people in this building, I would think _you_, of all people, would avoid a discussion on _feelings_ most of all," I gave him a dissatisfied glance, "Unless you want to braid each other's hair and have a pillow fight after?" I asked the last in a purely antagonistic manner voice snide and eyes mocking.

"Touché," was all he said, before a pillow smacked my bruised face, shortly followed by another, and another.

"HEY!" I sputtered, aghast at his sudden violent attack. "What was that for?" I demanded, hands on my hips as I stared at him in sheer amazement. He chuckled, arching a blonde eyebrow, a pillow in his hand, still half-lifted as if he was debating whether to throw another or not, I glared at the pillow in question with rising hostility and he reluctantly lowered it.

"Unless you wish to sleep on the floor without them?" His innocent look is _not_ convincing, "Or perhaps, in the bed, with _me_?" His eyes glittered, hand patting the silk beside him invitingly. I scowled, turning to hide the flush on my cheeks, _stupid blood sharing!_ and began collecting the pillows, arranging them neatly and in a perfect line for my slim figure to sleep on, like a feather mattress. Satisfied, I went to lie down, only to give in to the impulse to have the last word.

"You could've not hit me in the face," I grumbled, it was sore, very sore, and Eric hadn't exactly thrown those pillows _lightly_.

"You could allow me to heal your bruise," he countered candidly, amusement tinting his tone.

"_Goodnight_ Eric," I emphasized meaningfully.

A soft, silken chuckle echoed in the room, the lights switching off, drenching us both in absolute blackness, "Sweet dreams, Miss Stackhouse." My cheeks flared, the implication that I would dream of him hanging heavy in the air between us even as exhaustion claimed me, pulling me into a deep, blissfully dreamless sleep. Take _that_ Eric Northman.

"Why not just go home?"

Jason is as sweet as molasses, and just about as thick, "I _can't_ just pack up and run back to Bon Temps," I argued, swallowing another mouthful of sticky flap jacks.

They weren't as good as Gran's, not even close, but I'd woken up a little after noon absolutely famished and had decided that my being ordered to spend the day with Eric didn't mean I couldn't still have breakfast with my brother. Luckily, breakfast was still served at four pm, this being a vampire hotel and all. And if a big, bad vampire wanted to get his panties in a twist over it, let him, I was hungry, and I needed advice. Even if my impartial party, Jason, was currently having trouble grasping the concept, in his usual, endearing manner. I'd given him the _very_ edited version of my current woes in the surreal, okay flat out _futile_ hope that he'd be able to make some sense of it with me, I knew I was just grasping at straws, but it was nice to have someone human to talk with. Someone normal.

"Well, why not?" His hazel eyes were wide, "Why not just go home and sleep on it, and let them figure out their vampire stuff without you?" He eyed the last biscuit for a moment before chewing it, speaking around his mouthful to add sagely, "Gran always told me that perspective is all about distance." Unluckily for my brother, it's hard to sound wise with biscuit crumbs around your mouth.

"No, she was always telling you to put some distance between yourself and the problem, to _gain_ perspective," I corrected automatically, sighing before I took a long sip of my pulp free orange juice. "Anyway, I can't leave, not yet. I just don't know how I should feel about all this." Chewing on a piece of bacon I reflected on Godric's words the night before, most of it is jumbled due to sleep and time, but it felt like, well, this'll sound silly, but it felt like Godric was trying to warn me off of Bill. Seeing as he's a vampire King, not to mention one that's just tasted my blood, I can't help but wonder what his motives might be for getting me to doubt my vampire boyfriend, especially since it also sounded, just a _little_, like he was trying to get me to warm up to Eric, who just _happens_ to be his child. That along with the fact that he _ordered_ me into Eric's room, well… I'm getting better at sensing subterfuge, and this whole mess _reeked_ of it. At least he's promised to talk to Bill and I, maybe I could get some answers then.

"So you're working for vampires now?" Jason commented, breaking my reverie. He was currently slathering butter on the fresh biscuit from the new basket of bread he'd just fetched. Boy does he like his biscuits, Gran used to hide some from him just so there'd be a few left for me when I got home from work. "What about Merlotte's?"

"Oh, I'm still a waitress," I assured him, my tone blasé, "this was just," how to put it? "a side job to get some extra money." He nodded slowly in understanding, washing down his second biscuit with a gulp of orange juice.

"And Sam's okay with that?" He pressed, sounding skeptical. I rolled my eyes, annoyed slightly at the mention of my not so understanding boss.

"Not really, but he understands that I'm my own person," was the conclusion I shared with him, perhaps a bit curtly. He blinked, and then nodded again; causing me to speculate if he was perhaps a bobble head in another life. There _is_ an upside to Jason, however, his mind isn't usually crowded with thought, to say the least, and when he's calm and attentive like now, it's almost as easy as being around a vampire. Most of the thoughts I picked up on were about his food, and the occasional perusal for cute girls in our surroundings, although he was a bit leery of the fact that one of the 'hotties' might have fangs.

"Shame you didn't fall for _him_," my brother had to point out, his anti-vampire sentiments surfacing again, whether he realized it or not. I sighed in irritation, exhaling loudly.

"Suppose so," I allowed, just to put an end to the discussion. Why's everyone so keen on trying to put Sam and I together? I've never felt more for that man than friendship, nearly sibling-like affection, and a healthy amount of frustration at his pig headedness. Oh well, I suppose there's really no point of dwelling on all of _that_.

Jason and I slipped into silence, it always happens between my brother and I, no matter the love we have for one another, and the newfound level of understanding, we're just too different to really _get_ one another. There's just not much to say to someone who knows you so little, and understands you even less. I felt a momentary pang in my chest at the thought that Jason, my goofy big brother, was all the family I had left in the world. For some reason, that made me feel more alone than ever before.

"Shit," Jason cussed, eyes wide on something approaching at my back, "That big blonde one is coming." Figures. Just when I start to feel down and out, here comes Eric to rub it in.

I poked at the eggs remaining on my plate, suddenly not so hungry, I'd already eaten five flapjacks, two pieces of bacon, and a biscuit or two of my own, but I'm certain my loss of appetite had less to do with the amount of space left in my stomach, and more to do with the smug, caustic vampire who was approaching our table. I couldn't help but notice my body reacted to his mere presence now, my legs pressing together slightly, limbs warming, heart stuttering like a love struck fool, I shoved down these unwanted reactions with a good dose of indignant outrage. I wasn't some cheap fanger from Fangtasia, I was Sookie Stackhouse, and I loved Bill Compton, end of story. These knee jerk reactions would stop, eventually, they _had_ to.

To my blatant shock, Jason rose from his seat stiffly, his expression slightly apprehensive, as shown by the furrow between his eyes, yet his hazel irises themselves were filled with a grim sort of determination, "Mr. Northman," my eyes were as big as platters, I didn't have the slightest idea why Jason would bother to learn Eric's name, he'd certainly gotten by for a long time referring to Bill as 'that vampire', and he'd known him for much longer than the taciturn Viking.

Not to mention the fact that Jason's starting a cordial conversation with a vampire, any vampire, was precedence in itself, "I uh…" He faltered a bit beneath Eric's openly intrigued glance, "wanted to thank you. For, um…saving my baby sister," his tanned hand fell on my shoulder, griping slightly, "she's all I got left, and if she'd died cuz of those Fellowship fuckers I would've been, well," clearing his throat gruffly he shot the taller man a derisive grin, "I would've been all sorts of fucked up." Then the unthinkable happened, my brother actually _shook_ _hands_ with Eric bloody Northman, their eyes met solemnly, hands pumping while I gaped. Jason let go first, and turned to me with a furrow working its way across his brow, eyes worried.

"Hey Sookie, your looking pale, everything ok? Your breakfast bothering you? I told you not to eat so much bacon," Jason fretted, catching sight no doubt of my dumb struck expression, which on occasion can make me appear rather pale and slightly sick. I smoothed the skirt of my cotton dress, taking a deep inhale of oxygen, and put on my best crazy Sookie smile, usually reserved for the most trying of customers at Merlotte's, but it also happened to fool Jason quite easily.

"Just surprised," I managed, feeling like I'd stepped into the Twilight Zone. My eyes found Eric, who'd neglected to shave, a layer of stubble dusting his chin, blue eyes the ever present focal point in his sun deprived features, "I'd have thought you'd be busy preparing," I commented in my most neutral voice, unwilling to use the word 'feeding' yet in front on my brother, "seeing as we have a meeting in an hour or so." I added the last in a pointed manner. Jason peered at us with unabashed interest, like we were a particularly involved Saturday morning cartoon, only pausing to stuff more food into his mouth. When we were kids, I used to call that talent of his the Scooby-doo technique, a few drops of maple syrup even got on his pin striped dress shirt, which he'd rolled the sleeves up on to avoid such a thing. I gazed at him, momentarily lost in family fondness.

"Good evening to you too, Miss Stackhouse," Eric drawled, his eyes pinning me from the corner of his peripheral, "And to answer your question, Sookie," his lips twitched in a suppressed smirk as he turned to face me fully, "I've already fed."

My eyebrows lifted at the fact that he'd caught on to exactly what I was implying, he was unnervingly intuitive like that on occasion, causing me to wonder what he could be like if he actually put an effort into being more human, more social. It was probably a lost cause. A closer inspection of his person revealed a smear of beige lipstick on his white shirt collar, just below his right ear, proving his words to be true. I didn't bother trying to figure out why that smudge of woman's lipstick bothered me so much, forcibly dismissing it as yet another unpleasant reaction forced by our blood sharing, it wasn't like I was jealous or anything.

"Do you drink those True Bloods?" Jason enquired, puzzling over Eric like he was a particularly interesting animal at the zoo, ever curious by nature. A smirk twitched on the century old vampire's lips, his blue eyes scanning Jason in mild interest.

"On occasion," was his evasive reply. Usually he was more direct than that, more blatantly antagonistic, perhaps he was actually, heaven forbid, _behaving_ himself. Well, that _would _be a first.

"Do they taste good?" At Eric's expression Jason quickly tacked on, "I mean, to a vampire that is?" He appeared genuinely curious, and as always, oblivious to any social faux pas that he was currently creating. I glanced at him in such a way that was supposed to convey that interrogating Eric never ended well, I should know, I'd tried. But being my brother, it went so far over his sandy head it might as well been a 747 passing by. Thankfully, Eric didn't seem bothered by it, which was fascinating in and of itself.

"I have heard a newly changed vampire relate the experience to that of drinking your human protein beverages, it fulfills all the nutritional needs one may have," Eric leaned back in his chair, "but, to coin a phrase, it tastes like shit." Jason nodded thoughtfully, and then gave one of those light bulb smiles that always betrays the fact that he's only just grasped the concept.

"I tried one of those protein shake things, tasted like drinking chalk," he agreed, shuddering at the memory. He didn't seem to understand Eric's not drinking True Blood meant he drank something _else_. Well, perhaps that was for the best. "Thanks for breakfast Sook," he leaned between Eric and me to peck my cheek swiftly, "Take care of my sister now, you hear?" He told Eric, earning a horrified look from myself. Eric, for his part, looked mildly surprised, but with him it's sort of hard to tell.

The blonde vampire cocked his head, sizing Jason up, "Wouldn't that be more appropriate to ask of Bill Compton?" He asked in a too pleasant tone. I'll admit, I feared for Jason for a moment there, _a lot_ of stupid falls out of his mouth, and around vampires that can be sort of harmful to one's health. Of course, I'd try to stake Eric before I just stood by and watched the jerk try to hurt my brother, but still.

"I guess," Jason shrugged; he planted him hand on the table between Eric and I, leaning in towards Eric conspiratorially, "but between you and me? I never really liked Bill all that much." He even made a face, scrunching his nose and frowning. That seemed to more than appease Eric, who crossed his arms and grinned in begrudging amusement, eyes flickering to me expectantly, no doubt feeling the irritation bubbling in my gut.

"Jason Stackhouse!" I scolded, appalled. I thought he and I had gotten passed this. Instead of looking ashamed like I felt he should've, Jason graced me with a disapproving look.

"I'm sorry Sook, but there's something about that man, it's just not right, and it ain't even about him being a vampire," he insisted, eyes deadly serious as they met mine, "Just be careful, okay?" Much, much later I'd openly gape at Jason's intuitive nature, something he must've just developed in the recent months, because as far as I'd always known him, Jason's been void of anything resembling an intuition since childhood. Maybe, looking back on it, it was simply a lucky guess, but I think Gran would tell me to have more faith in my brother than that. I'll try, Gran, but no promises.

As it so happened, at that exact moment I was far less than pleased with his judgment, "You said you'd try to be polite," I huffed accusingly, eyes narrowing as I caught my brother's arm. He had the decency to look away, but his jaw was tense, obviously stewing in his own sense of righteousness, hadn't he learned his lesson in the Fellowship?

"I will, okay? I will," he sighed long and hard, turning back to meet my stare directly, mouth grim, "I won't like it, and I think you should be more careful around him, but I'll try." I bit back my fury that Jason had seemingly dubbed Eric (of all people) worthy of his trust, but could not extend that courtesy to my actual boyfriend! It was ridiculous. It was stupid. Come to think of it, it was exactly like something Jason would do. Reluctantly, I released his arm, watching him leave the well lit dining area with a frown. While I thought, I chewed my lip, a sure sign that I was chewing something over inside my head, and none of it was pleasant in the least.

"Why does my brother like you?" I demanded of the looming mass of muscle at my side, having uncharitably decided that somehow, some way, Eric had a hand in my sibling's uncharacteristic behavior. The bulky vampire, who was currently leaning back in his chair, something that looked dangerous, especially given the fact that he was easily four times the chairs width, gave me a assessing look, gauging me silently as the tables around us started filling up for the dinner rush, a air of excited chatter and familiar ease surrounding us, making this almost seem normal, natural. All so misleading.

"I suspect it has to do with my inherent charm," he began with a knowing smirk, his ego knowing no limits, "good looks, impressive physique, and all around sexual appeal, but that's merely a guess." He concluded, adding in an indifferent tone, "If you're insinuating I have done something to endear that idiot to myself, you are sorely misleading yourself." Eric paused, half turning in the chair to crowd me with his impressive size, "Although I can't say I dislike his opinions on your _precious_ Bill, I assure you his attitude was entirely of his own choosing." Flashing me a wolfish, antagonistic grin he added in mock innocence, "Is it truly so hard to believe that others find me reliable, likable even?"

"Well, yes," I admitted dryly, causing some of his smugness to deflate, "When it comes to my brother, he doesn't get along with anyone not…Well, not like him," I gave Eric a hard look, "and you are _nothing_ like Jason." Jason prescribed to that 'like minds' thing a little too enthusiastically, he could be open minded, to a extent, but the majority of what he liked was based on what he knew himself to already like, if that makes any sense. That list was mostly compromised of girls, beer, sex, and more girls, in that order.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Eric decided with an impish smirk, "Now if we're through speculating on your brother's sudden attraction to me, perhaps we could move on to more pressing matters? For example, the meeting we must attend in ten minutes." He peered at me expectantly, awaiting a response. Talking of the meeting reminded me of something important I was missing.

"Shouldn't Bill be up by now? And why are _you_ here?" Stalking is _illegal_ fang boy.

Eric rolled his eyes, standing and offering me a hand that I petulantly ignored in favor of standing up on my own, "Godric is speaking with Bill in private; they will meet us there. As for my presence, Godric impressed upon me his desire that I not let you out of my sight, which was made somewhat difficult by your disappearance from our room this morning." The last was said in a chiding manner that immediately set me on the defensive. I had been following him closely as he gracefully navigated the clusters of chairs, skirting things with a liquid, nearly feline grace that seemed like it should be impossible for someone of his stature, while I was half jogging just to keep up. I stopped suddenly at his words, pausing in shock and replaying the conversation to make sure I'd heard him correctly, only to learn that unfortunately, I had.

"Your room, Mr. Northman," I near growled, speeding to catch up with his long strides, "My room is Bill's room, might I remind you that last night was entirely temporary." He didn't comment, leading me in his long, merciless strides from the airy dining area with its white linens and pastel walls, through the sterile halls, and finally to a corridor that looked to be a large assortment of meeting rooms, likely for vampires here on business. He paused before the last set of doors, they were large, made of solid oak and painted coffin black, they looked oppressive, daunting even. The handles were brass, which was unsurprising given the silver allergy most of the patrons of the hotel shared. Only after we paused did Eric turn, looking so much more formal in his starched white dress shirt and form fitting jeans, they were black, and like most of his clothes they emphasized his physique too nicely.

When he turned, he was glaring, and the air between us suddenly shifted, thick with tension. I swallowed, unconsciously stepping closer to the wall before I squared my shoulders and gazed up at him impatiently, arms crossed.

"Might I remind you, Sookie Stackhouse," he half growled, looming over me and suddenly exuding dominance, my skin tingled, "that you are a mere human, in the presence of a two thousand year old vampire, and your constant need to provoke me, will eventually have the desired result." The last was said with the most definite bite to his words, clipped and guttural.

"What about me telling you that it's _your_ room, not _ours_, is a provocative statement?" I demanded in exasperation, perplexed by his reasoning, and perhaps a _tiny _bit intimidated by his suddenly hostile demeanor.

He glowered, ever the moody bastard, his hand landing above my shoulder in a flash, suddenly pressing our now nearly touching bodies too far together. My pulse spiked instantly, mouth going as dry as a Louisiana drought, I could smell his understated cologne; see the flecks of sapphire and crystal in his intense eyes. He was so big, so looming, crowding me down, his lips nearly pulled in a sneer, before he inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, and a nearly pained look stole across his features, just before he closed himself off entirely. His features washed blank, impassive, even as I struggled to remember how to breathe probably, to keep in mind that this attraction I felt pulsing through me like fire and ice was all an illusion, based on his blood flowing through my veins. He backed off, and I sighed in relief, only to see he was still utterly blank faced. Ah, the infamous 'shut you out' routine, Eric was well known for it.

"Much about you is provocative, Sookie Stackhouse, much more than you would care to know," was his monotone response, his eyes were flat, dull, giving nothing away. He suddenly retreated entirely, pushing one large, ink black door ajar. His mouth formed a cruel, taunting line, the scent of his too erotic cologne filling the space between us still, nearly inebriating me even as I fought against his unnatural pull, he made this _much_ easier with his next words.

With his Eric Northman superior a-hole persona back in place, he added in an aggressive manner, "I simply ask that you speak to me with the respect I am rightfully due. You are lesser, human, _act_ like it." I gave him a hugely pissed off glare, my feminist and human sensibilities offended by his harsh, chauvinist words.

"Fine, _sir_," I snapped, the fissure of attraction dissolving beneath the force of my glaring dislike, "Won't you _please_ lead the way?" I punctuated my scathing sarcasm with a hundred watt bullshit smile, head tilted, and eyelashes batting at him in false innocence, my crazy Sookie smile out for all the world to see.

"After you, _lover_," he replied, extending his arm in mocking chivalry. His words lacked any warmth whatsoever, especially the endearment tacked on at the end, laced in biting sarcasm. He was acting as if we were practical strangers once more. I told myself I didn't care, dismissing it as Eric being his usual unbearable self, and tried desperately to pretend his chaotic mood swings didn't unsettle me as much as they actually did. What did I care if he was the bi-polar poster boy for emotional dysfunction? I nearly convinced myself that I didn't, but in the next moment it ceased to matter, I'd stepped through the threshold of the room, and consequently, smack dab into a whole heap of trouble.

I walked in slowly, hesitantly, bracing myself against a wince as Eric closed the door behind us, the resulting boom and click of the lock sounding impossibly foreboding. The sight inside the dimly lit room was as daunting as I suspected it would be, with Nan Flannery, the stiff, plastic looking woman from TV sitting center stage, her blue eyes darting around the room like daggers, cutting down those they crossed without so much as blinking. Her thin frame was encased in a cream business suite, her yellow blonde hair pulled back into its usual severe style, a water tight bun that emphasized the sharp definition of her cheekbones, and paper white skin. Godric was to her left, reclined on a large, comfy looking leather sofa, and dressed once more in a white shirt and black slacks, his expression entirely unreadable to my probing gaze. Scattered in the back of the room behind Nan were an assortment of various vampire officials, all of them employed by Nan Flannery and the Vampire Rights Association, or so their laminated badges proclaimed. There was a single friendly face to be found.

"Where's Bill?" My unwelcomed question drew the stares of every undead thing in the room, Nan's glance was especially disapproving, her lips thinning as she took me in from my loose pony tail, to the two inch sky blue heels I'd chosen to compliment my white and blue dress. Next to her severe beauty I felt like the weight of my own inadequacy filling the air around me, it was nearly suffocating in its physical manifestation. The tension in the room seemed to pulse, skyrocketing as each second ticked by in agonizing silence.

"Who is _she_?" Nan's distaste was palpable.

"The human in question," was Godric's calm, melodic response, he didn't as much as glance in my direction. His reply earned a sharper inspection by the blonde spokeswoman, who looked no less displeased at her second perusal of my person than by her first initial inspection, lips pursed into a razor thin line of dislike.

"Well, sit," Nan all but snapped, using the same tone most use on disobedient dogs. I shot Eric a furious look, enraged that he'd lied _again_. It was easier to focus on my rage at the Viking than concentrate on the fact that I was a guppy, thrust into a tank of sharks, and floundering in the unfamiliar waters. He ignored me, although I knew he could feel my emotions, and had to be able to sense my sudden spike of annoyance and the underlying fear. After a moment of indecision, I chose the seat next to Godric, earning a startled look from Nan, who opened her mouth as if to comment, and then closed it once more, seemingly intrigued by my choice. Well, I wasn't sitting next to _her_, and Eric filled up love seat across from Godric all by himself, so I was pretty much out of options.

"We have some questions for you, human," Nan informed me as soon as I was settled, her stare piercing, "In all honesty, this matter is usually below the notice of The Authority, human pets are the jurisdiction of their vampire masters, and those who rule the area of said vampire inhabits, but Godric has informed us of your _special_ case." She gave the vampire in question an annoyed glance, emphasizing the word 'special' with immense skepticism. "He has made some _very_ interesting claims against Bill Compton, who we have confirmed is a trusted consort of the Queen of Louisiana. These accusations cannot be ignored, and so, we will need your absolute honesty," she gave me a disdainful look, "We will know if you lie," she added in a threatening manner. I didn't trust her at all, but I trusted that she meant business, and when it comes to vampires, business tends to be messy and brutal.

"Um, I'll do my best to help," the honest truth was, I was scared. Leaf shaking in the wind scared, deer in the headlights scared, I'd never realized how much I relied on Bill's support, on his strength behind mine, until I was left without it. I was more than unsettled by his absence; I was well and truly _lost_. My hands were shaking, so I clasped them, aware that every creature in the room could hear my pulse, and smell my fear. I hadn't felt so undeniably defenseless and adrift since I'd lost Gran, and the parallel of emotions was not lost on me even in my panicked state. Codependency, thy name is Sookie Stackhouse.

"Isn't that sweet?" The way she said it, you could tell she believed it was anything but, "First of all, Miss Stackhouse," so she _did_ know my name, she was just being purposefully obtuse when she called me 'human', "I would like to know the extent of your and Mr. Compton's companionship, has he, or any other vampire," he eyes flickered in speculation to Eric in brief curiosity, "bonded you to them, or claimed you in a formal capacity?"

"Bill has," I admitted softly, "I am his." Nan seemed not at all impressed; quickly jotting a note on the previously unnoticed notepad on her thin knee. "But uh," I ventured softly, cheeks heated and turning red under such intense scrutiny by all the current occupants of the room, "I don't think we've bonded." I wasn't sure what that was, but I hoped that if we _had_ done something of that nature, Bill would've informed me as much _beforehand_. However, given what I now knew he'd kept from me in regards to blood sharing, I just couldn't be sure. Damn it all.

"I see, and Miss Stackhouse, were you aware of Mr. Compton's plans to secure you as his rightful property with the intention of gaining your services as a telepath for his Queen?" She enquired in mock pleasantry, my confused expression, coupled with my convulsing blinking seemed to have sufficed as an answer in and of itself, because she quickly jotted a few more notes and continued on as if she hadn't just blindsided me with a emotional semi truck. Queen? What Queen? My _services_… Bill hadn't said anything about that, he'd been mad enough when Eric wanted to use my talents. My mind kept repeating the word _rightful property _like a mantra, trying to make them fit, or perhaps trying to burn the phrase into my brain cells.

"Are you aware of the conspiracy Bill Compton has partaken in to overthrow his Sheriff, Eric Northman, and gain his place in the Louisiana territory as Sheriff of Area Five through bartering yourself, a human telepath, with the Queen of Louisiana to remain in her good graces?" _Bartered_? _Overthrow Eric_? These accusations seemed ludicrous, entirely unlike the vampire I'd come to know and love, fanged Barbie had to have her wires crossed, _my_ Bill was nothing like that, he'd never even consider those things…would he?

"T-that can't be true," I gasped, beyond stricken. My fingers knotted into themselves; betraying my honest distress, my shoulders were so tense I felt as if they might snap under the strain. My erratic breathing was the only sound in the dead silent room, and I fought against the sensation of drowning on too much oxygen, the first stages of a panic attack. What can I say? I'd had a hectic week, and this was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

"I see," Nan murmured, taking more fast notes, her hand was a blur as she scrawled away, "Do you know of any plans, decisions, or talk regarding Mr. Compton's freshly arisen child, the vampire Jessica, and her involvement in this matter of treason?" Treason, another one of those neon words that seemed to jump out vibrantly amidst the rest, _treason_... Fifth grade history class came back to haunt me, even for us humans, treason was an unforgivable offense, the penalty, death. Of course, Bill was already dead…

"Jessica wouldn't have anything to do with this," I defended with assurance; at least I was certain on _that _account. My nails dug into my palms, "Please," I rushed to add, earning a startled look from Nan, who wasn't used to being addressed by one of us lowly humans, "You have to be wrong, Bill's not like that, he doesn't care about being Sheriff, or any of that, he moved to Bon Temps to get away from vampire politics." I reasoned, inwardly begging her to admit this was all some big vampire joke, some ploy, some horrible nightmare I would awaken from shortly, just to discover I was in bed with Bill, his arms wrapped around me, his darkly erotic voice murmuring 'Sookie' in my ear. That such a thing could never happen again, that her words could be true, shook the entire foundation of what I'd come to trust, to love, and I hadn't lost so much, grieved over so many, just to give up the one good thing I had left so easily, if he was worth fighting for, I'd fight until my last breath.

Nan looked cynically amused, "Miss Stackhouse, are you aware the position Mr. Compton held under Sophie-Anne, the Queen of Louisiana, prior to his arrival in Bon Temps?" She asked in an icy tone. I shook my head, no, a pit forming in my gut as I did so. Bill hadn't said much about what he'd done before Bon Temps, and I'd never cared to ask. Mostly we spoke of his human family, his goals for the future, and the rest was usually about me, my life, my friends, my hopes and dreams, now that I thought about it, I knew very little of the vampire I spent my nights with. But that didn't mean what she said was true! I knew Bill in a different way, intimately, I'd spent the last year at his side, and while he loathed Eric, he'd never even hinted at envy for his position for Sheriff, he wouldn't _use_ me, he _loved_ me… Even then my protests didn't sound as certain as they should have.

"He was in charge of procurement, Miss Stackhouse, the practice of selecting gifted individuals for his Queen's collection," her cold, unfriendly eyes bore into mine unforgivingly, "I believe a Miss Hadley Stackhouse was one of his last additions to his Queen's stores before he was ordered to Bon Temps, and I have witnessed her presence at Sophie-Anne's manor personally. Now, if you please, I have an interrogation to finish." She stood, shocking me, an air of finality surrounding her in crisp dismissal.

That was it? And _Hadley _taken as an _addition_, whatever that was? My cousin, the one we'd thought gone and dead? I'd _told_ Bill about her, cried over it even, my family seemed to be slipping away from me at a drastic rate these days, and while Hadley had always been closer to my brother, that did not mean I didn't miss her. The sheer level of cold heartedness it would take, the cold blooded nature he would need to meet my crying eyes and soothe me, when he'd been the one responsible, I just couldn't fathom him being capable of it.

"Where is he?" My voice nearly cracked as I asked. I didn't care about vampire protocol right then, or Nan Flannery's judgmental eyes. I wanted to know where Bill was, so I could confront him, beg him to set things right, to explain how this was all some big misunderstanding, so he could tell me that he _loved_ me, and thusly, this was all some fabricated lie. Some outlandish tale likely concocted by Godric or Eric so they could have their own personal telepath on hand. Anything, as long as he didn't tell me it was true. I couldn't even handle the concept of it being truth, let alone the reality. It felt like my world was spun glass, and Nan Flannery had just taken a sledgehammer to it, bringing the painful shards to rain down around me, cutting me deep, tearing me open.

"That is vampire business," she stated with finality, smoothing her skirt and striding from the room dismissively, not sparing me so much as a second glance. For a long, intensely painful moment I sat in painful stiffness, my limbs taunt yet tremoring, my eyes glazing with hot, burning tears of disbelief and shock at the callous _unfairness_ of my current state. The Vampire Rights people filtered out, moving like shadows on the wall, silent blurs of black on white, and I ignored them, feeling as if there was a earthquake beneath my skin, a upheaval of self ripping straight through my core, leaving me bare, vulnerable.

"Sookie?" Godric's voice was tentative, probing. As if snapped from a prolonged trance, I blinked rapidly, my exhales coming at an erratic, too fast rate. The only explanation I can offer for the emotional storm that followed, is that I'd nearly been raped the night before, almost killed by Lorena, nearly blown up by a radical fanatic, had been tricked into sucking bullets from Eric's chest, saved a impaled Godric from dying, and now, after surviving all that, after pulling through, I was losing the only thing that was keeping me grounded in this surreal alternate reality I found myself in, where death and loss were common place, and happy moments few and far between. When you feel like you're staring at the lead weight that will sink you, denial is best. Strong denial, and a good dose of self delusion.

"No," my voice was hoarse, thick with emotion, I spun on the ancient vampire with a fury proportionate to my inner turmoil, "You _lied_, you set this up!" I cried in betrayal, raging at him, fists clenched, "It was all a trick, from the very beginning, wasn't it?" I accused with loathing, "You said you wanted me safe but you were just setting this up! I can't believe I trusted you, you're no better than Lorena! No, you're _worse_; at least Lorena admitted she's a deceitful, hateful bitch!" I stood, shaking, words spilling out of my mouth, my brain shut off, my heart bleeding each syllable in a vain effort of self protection, while the too calm vampire quietly, patiently, waited out my furious tirade.

"You've taken everything from me, both of you! Bill _loves_ me!" tears filled my eyes, he had to love me, otherwise I was just a fool, a hopeless idiot who hadn't listened, who hadn't wanted to hear the truth when it was told to her, "He would never do those things! And all for what? So you can have your own fucking little telepath at your beck and call?" My voice was brimming with snide hatred, overflowing with hysteria, "Well I'd rather _die_ than work for you! If something happens to Bill, I will _kill_ you, you won't have to worry about meeting the sun, I'll rip your undead heart out!" Hell hath no fury like a woman in love, even if it was a blind, foolish love. I told myself I wouldn't believe a word they said, not Godric or Eric, and not Nan Flannery, until I saw Bill myself, heard it from his lips.

"Are you finished?" The jewel eyed vampire enquired in tension filled civility.

"No!" I shrieked, stomping my foot like a child, "I want to see Bill! Where is he?" I stomped my foot, well past the point of logic, "I WANT TO SEE BILL NOW!" Brutal arms encased me, holding me back as I went to lunge at Godric, to perhaps scratch that insolent, peaceful look off his face, to make him bleed like I was inwardly bleeding. I raged against the vampire arms pinning me, preventing me from attacking, twisting and spitting like a feral cat in his unforgiving grasp, my nails raked Eric's arm, drawing blood, and I heard his inhuman hiss in my ear, a spine chilling, blood curdling sound that finally caused me to still in pure survival instinct and dawning terror. Something inside me instinctively recognized he could snap me like a toothpick, without even breaking a sweat.

"Let me go!" I spat, twisting harshly to meet Eric's impassive profile, his mouth grim. "Get off me you ass! Don't touch me! BILL! BILL!" In my defense, I was obviously hysterical, borderline psychotic at the time, screaming my lover's name until my throat was raw, only to break down in large, hiccupping sobs in Eric's steel embrace, his stubble nuzzling my hair soothingly as I broke and screamed my anguish. Comforting me as if I wasn't half mad at the time and hell bent on hurting him and Godric as much as humanly possible, his cheek rubbed against mine and I twisted viciously, stomping his foot and causing him to wince slightly due to the small amount of vampire blood I'd ingested the night before. Given what was about to occur, it served him right.

"Calm yourself," Godric near whispered, approaching warily, like one would walk towards a wild, injured animal. In the whirlwind of events, I'd nearly forgotten my accidental ingestion of his blood, and I was struck by the reminder that both vampires currently in the room with me could feel my emotions, sense the heartbreak ripping through my core. They knew it wasn't hatred that motivated me, but a grief so piercing I couldn't help but rage back against it, fight it the only way I knew how.

"Go to hell!" I spat caustically in his face, tears still streaming down my cheeks, "I hate you," my voice was hoarse, watery with tears, "I hate you so damn much."

"I know," his eyes softened, hand reaching out slowly, as if to caress me. I felt a surge of adrenaline and pulled violently in Eric's grasp, my hand striking out like a bronze lash, only to be caught in Godric's grip, his half lidded eyes bleeding warning as he held it well away from its intended target, his face.

"That would be foolish, Sookie," he cautioned gravely, "I understand," he paused, grimacing, "No, I don't, truly my human nature is all but gone, I do not understand what motivates _this_," his thumb brushed my cheek bone, coming back wet with salty tears, "but I understand that you feel it, with every fiber of your being, and that in itself is a gift that your Bill Compton does not deserve, this passion, this pain," he drew the words out softly, "he is unworthy of it."

"Fuck you!" I snarled. Eric jostled me, squeezing until I could barely breathe. I whimpered meekly in his grasp, going limp.

"Enough," Godric told his Child, and the grip Eric held me in loosened to moderately painful instead of bone crushing. I breathed out shakily, trying to assess if he'd in fact broken ribs, or if it just _felt_ like he had. Luckily for me, I was still intact, bruised, but not broken. "You find yourself in a dire situation, Sookie Stackhouse," he impressed, "You may not yet believe the level of Bill Compton's deceit, and I have not the time to convince you, but here is what I _do_ know."

"In ten minutes, Nan will have finished her interrogation," I bit my lip until it near bled, eyes filling with tears as I imagined what possible pain Bill could be suffering at that very moment, vampire interrogation methods were bound to be painful, and that word, _treason_, came back to haunt me, "She _will_ find him guilty, because, quite simply, Bill's intentions are exactly as I suspected." He waited, hoping, I suppose, that his words would finally sink in; unfortunately I was still only hearing what I wished to hear, still denying the obvious with a tenacity that bordered on delusional.

"I had hoped my messenger would bring more promising news, but an inspection of Mr. Compton's property in Bon Temps has brought to light, not only his financial records indicating his agreement to trade you for properties and stocks, but also his rudimentary plans to bargain your person in exchange for Eric's position," I opened my mouth to tell him what I thought of _that_, but he cut me off with a sharp look, "He was going to _trade_ you Sookie, like a cow at market, tell me, is this the _love _you humans so desire and covet?"

"I don't believe you," I growled, eyes hard as polished stone, unforgiving.

"I don't expect you to," he admitted, "I merely seek to prepare you, for when Bill's interrogation is over, both he and Nan Flannery will return, to discuss his delivery to the local Magister, and the division of his assets. They will divide his property between the local vampire Authority, and the area's Queen, and Sookie," Godric's somber eyes met mine, their luminous depths radiating sadness, "that includes you."

"I'm not-"

"Yes," he snapped, losing patience, "you _are_." I snapped my jaw shut, turning away defiantly, or more accurately, my neck twisted my head away, seeing as Eric was still acting as a mobile restraining device, trapping my body against his. A lump formed in my throat, despair pouring at me in wave after wave of self pity, misery, and denial.

"Why? Why did you do this?" I begged; anguish tinting my words, "Why?" What I really wanted to ask, was _why me_, why _always_ me, but I dreaded the answer, and feared more that there was no answer, no reason for my continual pain. My voice cracked, more useless tears cascading down my cheeks and chin, spilling onto my collar bone and soaking into my cotton dress. Godric pulled himself up, looking suddenly ancient, formidable.

"I will give you answers," he promised, "I understand this will be difficult for you, but we have no time to cater to your emotional distress, as I've said, Nan will return shortly, and when she does, I suspect she intends to hand you over to the Queen of Louisiana. It is the most logical conclusion, Nan will seek to appease Sophie-Anne's inevitable anger at loosing Bill by presenting her with her true goal, you."

"Over my dead body!" I snapped, forgetting for a moment the fact that my present company was quite dead themselves. Godric's lips twitched against a smirk.

"Be that as it may, you know as well as I, they will not take your opinion into account," He pointed out meaningfully, "You have admitted to Bill's claim on you, and sadly, the transfer of pets is quite common in our society." He gave me an almost pitying look, "However, in return for the suffrage I have unintentionally caused you, I find myself willing to offer you a solution."

"Oh yeah? Aren't I the lucky one?" I spat in scathing sarcasm. Godric exchanged an unintelligible look with Eric over my shoulder.

"The Vampire Association will have no right to you if you bind yourself to myself and Eric," he stated calmly, logically, "They would not dare insult me, not for Sophie-Anne."

"Oh that sounds _so_ reassuring," I snarked, "Give myself to _you_, and you'll what? Protect me?" I bitterly laughed my disbelief. At that moment, I trusted no one, not even myself. The black haired vampire seemed stunned by my callous disbelief, later, Eric would add that he'd been mouthing 'I told you so' (is he two thousand or twelve?) over my shoulder, which explained Godric's brief shift of attention before he once again focused his full gaze on me.

"I will," Godric vowed solemnly, "You do not yet understand your appeal to our kind, but you must know that any being who would employ such methods to secure you, would not hesitate to bring you to harm, the Queen of Louisiana is well known for her lack of compassion, as well as her preference for female companionship. She cares little if the desire is mutual."

"I'm not doing _anything_ until I see Bill!" I argued, struggling again against Eric, ignoring the hard pressure currently poking my butt with a sense of furious embarrassment, he was aroused _now_? It was the first time I would notice, and recognize, that violence, and struggling is to a vampire what a good back massage and a hot bath is to me, a natural aphrodisiac.

"By then, it will be too late," Godric reasoned, trying to appeal to my sense of logic.

"I don't care!" I shrieked, jerking against Eric's grip. Godric winced at the ear splitting volume, acute hearing means shrill pitches are rather abrasive.

"Sookie, this is the only way," he continued, stoic and unmovable. His face looked so youthful, exotic and wild, but there was something so old about the way he held himself, timeless, he radiated a presence that went beyond describing, it commanded attention, demanded compliance.

"For what? Your little plan to work?" I spat in acidic loathing, "I won't believe you, no matter what you say," I vowed, "You're nothing but a manipulative a-hole!" His brows winged upward briefly at my colorful language, Godric was not used to being insulted by other vampires, it had been decades since any had dared, and much longer since any insignificant little human had been so foolish. I didn't even have a clue at the time how lucky I was he chose not to take serious offense.

"So be it," he said it like some people say goodbye, with the weight of finality hanging thick and ugly in the air. I let out a gasping dry sob, well past the point of anything but panic and distress.

Godric turned to Eric, his eyes soft with affection, yet still commanding as he stared at his Child, "You know what must be done," he spoke wearily, as if he felt the burden of his decision acutely. He and I exchanged a long, mute look, me trying to impress my fury, my hatred, rebellion and defiance etched into my mouth and eyes, and he trying to convey his sympathy, or whatever it is he was capable of feeling towards me, a soft tinge to his expression that seemed weary, infinitely tired. His gaze trailed slowly back to the vampire pressed tightly against me, conveying something in that look, his tone suddenly sharp and decisive, "We cannot allow Sophie-Anne to possess her."

"What must be done?" I demanded hotly, trying to twist and look at Eric, but he held firm, "What the hell does that mean?" Godric gifted me another one of those slightly sad, slightly pitying looks.

"If you will not comply," he uttered each syllable slowly, pointedly, "Eric will claim you by force."

"THE HELL HE WILL!" I yelled, struggling with renewed desperation.

"This does not need to be unpleasant," a voice purred in my ear, soothing, igniting my skin in fine tremors of desire even though there was _nothing_ appealing about my current predicament, "Do not fight me Sookie." He almost sounded like he was pleading, but that was wrong, because Eric _never_ pleaded, you were lucky if he bothered to _ask_. I tried to elbow him in the stomach, but my elbow hit solid muscle, it was as if I'd tried to hit a brick wall, and so I gave up on fighting my way out of this. At least, in the physical aspect, I was well outmatched, and also outnumbered.

"You can't do this! Eric, _please_," I stared up at him, eyes wide, he was a right prick, but I'd always felt, somehow, I'd foolishly believed that he wouldn't push me so far, that he would never truly hurt me, not when it really mattered.

"Do not appeal to my sense of mercy," Eric suggested in that low, dangerous voice, his eyes cut chips of ice, mouth a razor line of determination, "You will not like what you find."

"Please," I begged, devoid of pride, just scared, scared and oh so desperate, "please, Eric, _please_."

He snarled, hand fisting in hair so hard I screamed in pain, baring my neck in a jerk of strength, before I found myself suddenly flush against a wall, two hundred plus pounds of furious vampire holding me completely immobile, his cold, winter frost eyes met my tear stained profile without a hint of sympathy.

"Don't, this isn't you Eric," I whispered, fear thick in my voice, "I'll do anything, just not this, please." I met his impassive stare, willing him to have mercy, to just this once, do something unselfish, something kind and compassionate.

"Godric must drink from you as well," he growled without feeling, "There must be no doubt we have claimed you, Bill will do everything in his power to ensure you belong to Sophie-Anne, there must be no leeway for him to barter with." I whimpered, struggling against him and my own rising despair.

There was nothing I could say to change his mind, nothing. It was in the determination he exuded, I'd only seen him so set on something so completely once before, and that was finding Godric. Once again, he was willing to risk me to get what he wanted, heedless of what damage was being done to me, and I hated him for it. I hated my own insignificance with a ferocity I hadn't believed myself capable of, but I hated Eric more, for exposing me to it.

"Bill will save me," it was my last hope to cling to, "and you'll be sorry." Eric bared his snow white teeth at me, sharp fangs extending as he did so, his eyes like twin pools in January, frozen and clear.

"Pray you are wrong," he growled, just before he struck, teeth sinking into my flesh in a sharp snap, puncturing my jugular as his mouth worked to swallow the gushing mouthfuls of freely flowing blood. It was painful, more so since I struggled, fighting him every inch of the way, my throat tearing every time I managed to twist or jerk away from his digging fangs, sucking lips, and caressing tongue. He growled, moaning gutturally as he fed, ecstasy etched on his inhumanly beautiful face, drawing deep pulls of my blood into his system, his erection digging mercilessly into my hip as he pressed more fully into me, almost suffocating me with his nearly limp weight. My desire to fight him only made me all the more irresistible to the Viking, his long years had been filled with willing women, but it had been decades, perhaps more, since a human, any human, had earnestly refused him.

"I wish it had not come to this," Godric confessed, drawing my hazy stare as Eric fed deeply, already I was dizzy, going numb with blood loss. He gently drew my wrist to his mouth, kissing the tender flesh softly, and I whimpered weakly, fingers curling, before he too bared his sharp incisors, biting down in a swift vampiric snap. My head lolled as Eric continued to lap at my neck, wrist burning in agony as Godric fed off of it, and still arousal began to permeate the fog, theirs, mine, ours, curling about my immobile body like a purring jungle cat, heating my veins and honing my senses so that every brush of fabric, each caress of skin and mouth, was sweet torture. It was wrong, so wrong, and so very cruel, but I could not help the way my body wiggled against Eric in wanton need, lightning sparking through my veins, fireworks exploding beneath my fluttering eyelids.

Godric moaned, pulling away first, and licking the sticky red from his lips in a languid swipe, Eric followed, blood drunk and filled with lust, his tongue swiping any stray drop of blood from his lips and cheeks, and then lapping the drip of blood running down my chest, tracing the line in one long, sensual lick from the curve of my chest to the vee of my jugular. I was a sagged, limp doll, drained, weak, my head throbbing, my sex aching in unwanted lust, my limbs trembling with the exhaustion of blood loss, confusion hazing my thoughts as I struggled against the pull of unconsciousness. The room spun and swam, splotches of light dancing gaily before my vision, but I felt heavy, like I was wrapped in wool and being held underwater, the lights spiraling in chaotic, incomprehensible patterns as I struggled for coherency.

"Drink," I don't know who said it, at that point, I wasn't lucid enough to care, my lips eagerly closed over the gushing wound, my survival instinct pushing me to drink the hot, bitter liquid. It tasted awful, just like cold medicine, the flavor was sickening in its sweetness, the consistency syrupy and thick, but just like the medicine my Gran used to tip down my throat at the first sign of a sniffle, it also made me feel so much better, as if I was slowly awakening. I moaned, the heat and power flooding me as mouthfuls of blood slid down my convulsing throat, the coppery stench filling my nose, dousing my taste buds, and still I drank, eager. My hands had been freed and they cradled around the offered wrist, a cry of frustration ripping from my mouth as the it was pulled back, taken away, and then another whimper of defeat as another wrist replaced it, smearing the blood about my closed mouth to tempt me into submission.

"You must, Sookie," came the soft encouragement, and far too willingly for my peace of mind, I complied. The second must have been Godric, for I've never felt something like I did when I began to drink his blood, it was like someone had hooked me up to a generator, giant volts of power surged through me, wracked my body in electric energy, filling me, my mouth working furiously over the wound, greedily drinking, unable to stop, my mind a torrent of need, just basic, primal need, as that life giving liquid entered my system, binding me to a man who was older than the Egyptian pyramids, than the Berlin Wall, even older than the Roman Empire. He tasted old, very old. Bill tasted like blood, nearly normal but laced with something other, something powerful, and Eric tasted like coppery wine, aged, and far more potent for it, but still in essence, like blood. Yet Godric was the heroine of vampire blood, his was an age without definition, a dark, consuming power that did more than tempt me, it consumed me. Overwriting every sense, every thought, until all I could think of was the next swallow, the next suck of euphoria being drawn inside me gulp by greedy gulp.

"Enough," as I ignored the voice, the wrist drew back, and to my later mortification, my blunt teeth clamped, keeping it to me, a low growl emitting from my throat, creating a animalistic noise I hadn't known myself capable of. I felt a masculine chuckle vibrate at my back, a strong hand holding my neck with the other carefully pried my teeth from the cold, dead flesh. I licked the blood from my lips and fingers like it was Godiva chocolate, shamelessly, drunk on the potent power of Godric's offering, I felt their mutual amusement, their judgment, but remained entirely unaffected, not paying them a single moment of my attention until every drop had been cleaned from my mouth and hands. I knew I looked like a crazy woman, a desperate addict, but I didn't care, nothing mattered.

After the blood was gone, I was left with the most pleasant buzz, almost like being drunk, a wide, loopy grin spread on my lips. I let out a giddy, hysterical giggle, spinning like a little girl, hands in the air, twirling and drunk on euphoria. I heard male voices discussing me, my reactions, but I didn't care, they were static, background noise. I knew I was missing something, forgetting something even as I reveled in the power and life and energy flowing through my veins, but I couldn't be bothered to sort it all out, not then, not when I felt so marvelously _alive_. Nothing bothered me, nothing.

Or I thought I didn't, until one word, one deep, velvet drawl pulled me back into reality, back into myself, and I felt the belated shame of my actions wash me, decimating me, eradicating that drunken euphoria as if it'd never been. It was a real kick to the gut.

"_Sookie_." Only Bill said my name like that, like a whispered prayer, or a heated curse, his tone liquid fire over southern gravel. My eyes shot up, widening in surprise, my senses suddenly returning.

"Bill!" I didn't care that I was covered in two other men's blood; I rushed to him, crying out in dismay as I caught sight of the silver binding his neck and wrists. It was burned into his skin; heavy links of chain wrapped his strong throat, entangled around his intertwined wrists, branding him and binding him all at once.

"Keep her back," Nan barked, and despite the fact that I knew it was useless I fought to make it to him regardless, struggling afresh as Eric dragged me backwards roughly by my forearm, forcing me to sit in the loveseat beside him, his arm pinning me to his side possessively. I hissed at him, like a feral cat, and he smirked, patting my head like you would a small, harmless animal. I fought against the feeling of rightness his touch provoked, rebelling with every inch of stubborn will in me, but too soon I'd lost, my body curling up to his solid form seemingly of its own will. Eric gazed down at me, amused by my capitulation, and radiating something else, something disturbingly sweet, his lips brushing my forehead as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, keeping me at his side, and I belated recognized the emotion, contentment. Bill's furious growl echoed in the room like a wolf's howl, anguished and angered beyond reason.

"What have you done to her?" He snarled, fighting his silver restraints, only to be forced back by three of the black clad Vampire Rights activists. Nan Flannery shot him a look, arching one of her pencil thin eyebrows. He ignored her, eyes pinned on the blonde at my side in jealous fury, "Eric, if you harmed her, I swear I'll…"

"That is your Sheriff, Compton," Nan reminded him sharply, always the politically correct bitch, especially when it came to vampire politics. Bill calmed, slightly, eyes warily flickering to the humorless vampire spokeswoman.

"He has fed from her, she is _mine_!" Bill argued, snarling, having abandoned his momentary calm as easily as he'd adopted it. "Sookie," he met my eyes in askance, "What did they do? Are you okay? I am so very sorry," his blue eyes bled sympathy, compassion, and regret, but could I trust such things from someone who supposedly specialized in manipulation? "I should have been here to protect you."

"Protect her?" Godric enquired, his voice colder than I'd ever heard it. I stiffened as I felt an echo of his emotion, cold, icy disdain, it felt lethal, murderous, "From what, exactly? Did you intend to protect her from your Queen?" His lips pulled taunt, fangs bared, "From the woman you promised her to?" Bill growled, eyes furiously flickering between Nan, Godric, and Eric, his lips curled in disdain.

"I would've never allowed her possess Sookie," Bill swore furiously, finally looking at me, "I never intended to."

Nan felt the need to interject at this point, likely trying to assume some sense of control over the rapidly deteriorating situation, "Interesting, Mr. Compton, as I have a signed confession that says otherwise." He turned to the plastic looking woman as if she'd struck him, eyes wincing before they fell on me, filled with an unnamed, but a obviously painful emotion, in a moment of uncharacteristic vindictive spite, I hoped that silver was _very_ painful, and whatever he was feeling emotionally at the time, more so. I had my answer, it was staring me right in the face, and no amount of denial could change that.

"Sookie…" He began, voice filled with anguish. He was there, my Bill, in his dark denim jeans and loose dress shirt, but he wasn't, I felt emotionally void looking at him. Despite my words to Godric and Eric, suspicion had indeed wormed its ugly way into my heart, and now it was eating its fill of grief and stunned hurt. His words were simply wood for the fire, the burning pressure of my doubt growing into an unbearable, torturous flame of betrayal, scorching my insides, charring them black as coal.

"Is it true Bill?" I demanded, my voice much firmer than my frame of mind, "You were going to _sell me_?" My voice cracked, eyes brimming once more, but I refused to cry. The arm on my shoulder tightened, whether in comfort or restraint, I'm not certain.

"No, Sookie, I had changed my mind," Bill urgently denied, willing me to believe him, his drawl rough and earnest, or so it seemed, but his remark earned a scowl from Nan, who was tapping her talon-like impatiently by this point, "I wasn't going to, not anymore, you have to know I fell in love with you, you changed _everything_, Sookie, _please_." My stare hardened, my voice like steel, ringing clear and sharp, my anger once again my only defense against the pain that threatened to consume and annihilate me.

"But you were, at one point," I clarified, watching him slump with a hallow snap echoing in my ears, I think it was the sound of my heart breaking. "Did you really bring them Hadley?" He'd brought this Queen my _family_, I added in an inward cry of disbelief and hurt, _my cousin! _He seemed _very_ surprised that I was so well informed, and that only hardened me against him further.

Was the last year of my life built on lies? My first love, a sham? The gift of my virginity now tainted by his hidden motives and lies? Was I just something people _used_? Nothing more but a pretty bauble to be traded for money and a political position? I felt dirty, tainted, and very, very, empty. Like a Halloween pumpkin, as if someone had scooped my insides clean, gutted me, leaving me vacant, empty eyed shell, a listless observer in my own, sad little play.

Bill's head hung, "Yes," he admitted, and I bit my lip to stifle any vocal cry of pain. It hurt too much, too much to feel, it was a pain too deep to handle, to assess and cope with, and so I felt myself retreat farther into the numbness of shock, where no one could hurt me. Or so I hoped.

I was suddenly very aware of Eric's ever present grip, arm hanging around my neck, his rough fingers lightly tracing soft, soothing patterns on my shoulder, and I gazed up into his blue topaz eyes, searching, for what, I didn't know. He eyed me mutely, before sighing deeply and pulling me into a stiff, nearly awkward hug. I was shocked, but at the same time I felt something new, something stirring in me that wasn't _me_, Eric's emotions, faint but present, a soft, constant wave of affection, lightly laced with lust. It startled me, and I was in no mood for more uncomfortable realizations, so I pulled away, my brain swimming in emotional turmoil. He let me, his fingers lacing almost absent mindedly with my own.

"This is all very entertaining," Nan spat in a way that showed she was anything but amused, "However, I have important matters to discuss, and find myself unwilling to wait out this _delightful_ lover's spat." She gave Eric an assessing look, "I see you've wasted no time acquiring what you could before formal arrangements were made." Her eyes flickered to his hold on me in disapproval. I felt his amusement flare in me even before I saw his mocking grin.

"Jealous?" He teased, earning a sour scowl from the perpetually bitter woman. Bill's eyes were like molten glass, livid and hot with rage, sharp and glassy, they looked on my and Eric's laced fingers with biting jealousy. It wasn't that I'd forgiven Eric, not even, but at the moment, I was too emotionally distraught to care to focus on why I was so receptive to his touch, his care, desperate enough to accept what comfort I was offered, even if it was from a vampire who'd forced himself on me not a full hour ago.

"She is not his," Bill growled, voice rough but confident, "She never will be." He met my eyes, grim satisfaction etched on his mouth, pleased that he knew me so well. Funny, I was currently wondering if I'd ever known him at all, or if it'd all been a ruse, a façade to fool to gullible little hick from Bon Temps, the naïve little telepath who was lonely enough to fall in love with a lie. He'd done it before, Nan had said as much, it used to be his _job_ to seduce naïve woman and bring them back to his Queen, whoever _she_ was. After meeting Lorena, I was certain I was better off not making her acquaintance. The truth was painful, I was just a _job_, an assignment, everything that had meant _so much_ to me, had been an act, a farce he played out for his own gain.

"Sookie, tell her," Bill implored, his voice laced with slight panic, eyes meeting mine in frantic demand, "You are mine, Eric holds no claim over you." He turned to Nan, voice coaxing, "They have forced the blood exchange on her; she is still my possession." Perhaps he meant to say 'in my possession', I'll never know, and at the time, I wasn't feeling nearly generous enough to allow him that much leeway.

"You're _what_?" Despite my anger, my hurt, and the fact that my entire world was crumbling down on top of my head, my voice was as cool as a winter storm, bitingly cold, perhaps I was unwitting channeling a bit of Godric. Bill recognized his mistake too late, opening his mouth to correct his words, but I'd seen the desperation in his tone, and as much as I didn't want to believe it, as much as every part of me screamed it wasn't true, I knew he'd already used me in his bargain, the only question was how. My intuition was back to haunt me, and suddenly I hated that it was always right, willing it just this once to be wrong, but the most painful revelations seldom are. It's the happy ones you have to distrust.

"This is _not_ an open forum," Nan snapped, entirely done with our theatrics, and emotional displays. She straightened, tapping her pencil on the still open notepad as she spoke, "In relation to the charges of treason, and the seizing of all assets and property of said vampire, as dictated by our Law, Bill Compton has formally offered Sookie Stackhouse, his telepathic pet, as compensation to the Authority, and we have accepted." I opened my mouth to tell her and Bill Compton to go to hell, or take a nice walk under the afternoon sun, but Eric slapped his hand over my mouth, earning a glare and retaliatory pinch from me. He took it in stride, pinning my hands matter-of-factly and ignoring the fact that I was biting his palm in an effort to dislodge it. Stupid blunt human teeth.

"Sookie Stackhouse is mine," Godric countered, his voice as calm and serene as if he'd just announced today's weather. Nan looked more than unhappy, she looked pinched and furious.

"Since when?" She snapped. Godric gave her that small, mocking little smile.

"Since last night," he lied without batting an eyelash, "She spent the daylight hours with my Child, under my protection." Nan Flannery turned on Bill, her look of grim displeasure caused him to stiffen in what almost appeared to be fear.

"I was not informed of this," and Nan obviously wasn't used to being kept in the dark. Her eyes bore into Godric, irked that he remained impassive to her glare, "This does change things." He nodded slightly, tilting his chin downward in what almost appeared to be a slight bow, but was actually his attempt to hide his smirk of victory.

"Of course," she brightened, "I would have to hear as much from the human." Her eyes met mine expectantly, grin vicious, "You claimed you belonged to Bill," she prompted expectantly. Eric slowly released my mouth, and I worked my stiff jaw for a moment, glad he hadn't broken it.

"You would take her word over mine?" Godric enquired, cutting me off. Nan's cool eyes snapped back to him, lips pursing. No, she couldn't take my word over his, could she? Her grim expression seemed to confirm as much and I breathed a small, very small sigh of relief. I knew if I was forced to answer, it would expose Godric's claim as a lie, I'd never been good at deceit, another product of Gran's upbringing, not even the Fellowship had bought my act. I wasn't sure if belonging to Eric and Godric would be horrible, but I knew I preferred the evil I knew to the one I didn't. Bill didn't intend to protect me, that much was now abundantly clear; he'd intended to use me as a bargaining chip. I wouldn't belong to his Queen, I refused. Eric and Godric I might be able to handle….I hoped.

"Sookie lied," Eric supplied in a bored tone, "because I told her to. As we were not certain of the Authority's decision, it was my wish that should he be found innocent of our suspicions that we reveal this news in private, and spare you the needless drama." His smirk was cutting. Nan rolled her eyes.

"Indeed," she voiced in begrudging amusement, "I can see this is a very nice load of bullshit, I should bring you all before the Magister and have _him_ deal with this." She groused threateningly, but after a sigh she snapped her notepad closed, expression resigned, "However, lucky for you, I'm in no mood for excess baggage, and the flights have already been booked, as it stands, Sookie Stackhouse shall remain the property of Godric Godfrey." Bill opened his mouth to argue and she hissed at him bluntly, "If you wish to debate that, you may bring it up to the Magister yourself, and see if he rules differently."

Abandoning arguing with Nan, Bill turned to me, his eyes haunted, "I would never have wished this upon you." I'll bet.

"No, you wanted to sell me to your Queen," I snapped in vindictive agreement. He flinched, as if my words were blows, I almost wished they were.

"They have blinded you to the truth," he accused softly, his voice filled with sorrow.

"Well, they weren't the first, were they?" I demanded sharply, leaning back in my seat and unintentionally pressing myself against Eric, who didn't seem to mind, if his sudden surge of arousal was any indication, he felt just the opposite towards my new position as Bill did, the black haired vampire's nostrils flared as his lips thinned into a mulish line. How many nights had I spent kissing those lips? Tracing that firm jaw? I tried not to let it hurt, tried not to feel, but that was simply impossible, there was too much between Bill and I for this to be considered anywhere near a clean break.

"All I have done," Bill uttered gravely, "was with your well being in mind. Believe what you like, Sookie, but I loved you, unconditionally. They will never feel for you as I did, they would never care to," he added vehemently, "Eric prides himself in the inability to love, and his Maker is no different."

"At least," I spoke softly, purposefully, grief tinting my words, "They never pretended to." A lost, lonely tear slipped from my eye, falling from my eye, just as I tried to let Bill fall from my heart, vainly trying to release him from my mind, heart and soul. There is no good way to love and lose, perhaps there's not even a good way to love. At that point, I hardly believed in the notion myself, could hardly trust such a thing truly existed.

"Will someone get her out of here?" Nan Flannery demanded sharply, "I have a plane to catch in four hours, and we have documents to sign," she turned to Godric briskly, "I have finalized the paper work to relieve you of your territory as well. We only require _one_ witness," she added the last pointedly, eyeing Eric and I with obvious distaste. In other words, she wanted us out.

"My Child will see to it Sookie is removed," Godric agreed, nodding at Eric, who pulled me up with him. "But I have a request." Nan gave him a look that clearly implied her patience was paper thin. "Allow the human to say her goodbyes." My eyes shot to him in stunned gratitude.

"Can she do so _quickly_?" Nan demanded in exasperation. Godric nodded, and she rolled her eyes, seemingly hassled, "Alright, five seconds." She shot me a pointed look, obviously not pleased by this nearly decent gesture she was participating in, "Starting _now_." I shrugged off Eric's loose grip, lightly shaking his hand from my forearm, and walked to the silvered vampire now looking at me warily, as if it was I who had betrayed him. As if this was _my_ doing.

"I don't know what's true," I admitted, tears filling my eyes at the idea that this might in fact be the last time I laid eyes on him, it was too painful to consider, "I don't know why you did these things, or what you truly intended, but I do know," I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, "that I loved you Bill Compton, completely, entirely, and I will never, ever forget you, for better or for worse." There, I'd said it. Even if it was all a lie to him, it'd been real for me. Too real.

"Sookie, if nothing else," Bill began, eyes earnest, tone imploring, "trust that I loved you. I always have, I always will, until the end of my long years. You have shown me what it is like to be human once more, and it is a priceless gift. I only wish we had more time, so I could show you how very much you mean to me. How much you will always mean to me." He shifted in the burning silver chains, I watched his Adam's apple bob, his midnight blue eyes, so dark, so intense, warped in pain and sorrow, "I love you Sookie, I always will…" I had to get out of there, before I broke entirely.

"Goodbye Bill."

I fled.

There was nothing to do but run.

To run from him, from myself, from the dark future I found myself thrust into. A loveless existence, bound to two men I could not trust, in a place so very far from home. I was lost, abandoned, discarded, and so I ran, as hard and as fast as I was able, discovering that that was currently _much_ faster than normal, nearly at a vampiric speed. Still I ran, I knew Eric could keep pace, even as I slammed those heavy black doors open, my borrowed vampire strength cracking the wood in my haste to get out of that room. My willowy figure was no more than a blonde-white blur as I sped away from the only man I'd ever loved; suddenly doubting myself, my brain questioning if it was in fact I that had betrayed Bill with my inability to trust his word over the word of others I surely could not trust, it was almost enough to break the barrier of scalding tears building behind my eyes and reduce me to sobbing my broken heart out in the hotel hallway.

I nearly went to Bill's room, before Eric stopped me, flicking the key card through in a deft swipe of his wrist and opening the door so that I could enter his instead. Ignoring him entirely I practically flew inside, dropping myself on the bed and sobbing my heart out onto expensive silk pillows, my fists beating against the defenseless bed, pouring out my anguish and frustration, my hurt and wounded soul.

All I could wonder, lying there, was if it anything would ever be okay again, and somehow, I just couldn't see how it ever could be

**A/N: **Men are jerks, vampire men? More so. Eric and Godric may seem a bit…aggressive, but their intentions are mostly good….mostly… I got rid of Bill! YAY! It's not that hard, but still….bye bye sideburn boy. Now that Bill's been silvered and shipped off, more smutty fun will commence, promise. Hoped you enjoyed, review if you like, I know this story isn't exactly Picasso material but I'm having way too much fun writing it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dead To Love**

**By: Demon Tsunami**

**A/N: **I revised the previous chapter,looking backI just wasn't happy with how I wrote Sookie's emotional turmoil. A lot of helpful reviewers pointed out some very good facts, and made some equally good suggestions, most of which I took. Hopefully it's for the better. I'm really looking forward to seeing what you guys think of this one…

**Chapter Two: **You Can't Fix a Broken Heart with Duct Tape

"_I would swallow my pride  
Choke on the rinds  
But the lack thereof  
Would leave me empty inside  
I would swallow my doubt  
Turn it inside out  
Find nothing, but faith in nothing  
Want to put my tender  
Heart in a blender  
Want to spin around  
Into beautiful oblivion…"_

_-Inside Out by Eve 6_

When I was a kid, Gran always tried telling me that no matter how much a person can know, that amount will always, and I mean _always_, be outweighed by what they don't know, tenfold. Being a telepath, I rolled my eyes at her and dismissed it as yet another philosophy that applied to everyone else, except me. Problem was, I knew too much, too often, about everybody, people say knowledge is power, but what they don't say is power isn't all it's cracked up to be. Neither is knowledge, for that matter. For example, I_ did_ want to know if Bill Compton was the manipulative, scheming, backstabbing son of a bitch that Nan Flannery and Godric painted him as, but that didn't mean I liked the knowledge when I had it. Be careful what you wish for and all that. Or perhaps I should've just been careful, period.

Boy was I ever on the wrong side of careful; when it came to everything about vampire Bill I'd been everything but, and I supposed everyone in Bon Temps would have a very fine time saying I told you so, with Sam and Tara heading off the glad-you're-off-the-vampire-kick celebration, complete with smug know-it-all-ness, party hats, and smiles. As if Bill's being a world class a-hole would justify all their bigoted ideals and vampire nay-saying, not to mention just plain old rudeness, which it so doesn't, not even slightly, people can be just as bad as vampires, and vice versa. After all, being undead changes a person, just like life does, it's all about how a person decides to deal with that change, that's what defines their goodness, or lack thereof. In short, the whole world is a scary, untrustworthy place full of scary, untrustworthy people, loving anyone, vampire, human, or whatever, is just an ongoing process of elimination, whether their heart beats or not, and that's the flat truth.

Fangs or no fangs, that Bill ended up being a bastard (just like most of my friend's first boyfriends, come to think of it) has nothing to do with him being dead, and everything to do with him being a piece of dried out cow dung. Of course, I do think he takes the crown on the bastard of the year award, as not many boyfriends are using their girlfriend in order to sell her like some telepathic trinket to the highest bidder, but that's just my life… when it goes bad, it tends to go _really_ bad.

I sighed, taking up Eric's bed, spreading out on the cool silk and laying there like I was trying to melt into it. I supposed eventually he'd come back, and when he did, he might, insert cringe, want to _talk_. There was a whole truckload of reasons to dread talking to Eric Northman, for starters, I absolutely did not want to have to admit that he and Godric had been right about Bill, because then I'd _also_ have to admit that their drinking from me like I was a human vending machine was possibly necessary, and heaven forbid I actually forgive them both, because with their potent blood soaking into my system if I wasn't absolutely pissed off at the blonde as I had been, I might just start humping his leg like the _pet_ that I supposedly was, which insulted every sense of feminist upbringing in me and then some. I mean, I'd actually been taking comfort from him back there, not to mention the fact that I had no clue what Godric and Eric thought owning me entitled them to, and God only knows what _I thought_ them owning me entitled them to, and then there's the lovely issue of my libido being set in hormonal overdrive to the point that even though sex was the last thought on my mind, I was _still_ fighting a arousal on a near constant basis. To summarize, I was knee deep in trouble and sinking fast.

If there was one thing I needed, it was an impartial party; someone I could unload myself on who wouldn't use my emotional confusion to try to get down my pants like Eric or Godric might, or drastically overreact like Tara was bound to when she found out. My brother was totally out of the question, talking about sex and men with Jason was too far out there, especially when it involved vampires, and me being owned by two of them instead of just one, I could only imagine the look on his face. Sam was a good friend, but once again with the whole emotional confusion leading to his trying to get into my pants, _men_, they're utterly useless for girl talk. I was starting to feel like I had no options left, no one to turn to, and then it hit me.

There was only one girl that I knew that would understand my current predicament, complete with supernatural blood binding, Bill's betrayal, and all the other vampire BS that had effectively wrecked my life. Jessica. The red headed, spit fire vampire had not been with her Maker in that conference room, giving me hope that Bill hadn't dragged the poor girl down with him, as he'd so _graciously_ intended to do to me. The swine. Oh yes, I was far past the denial stage now, and even grief had abandoned me, now, when I thought of Bill, I could only be angry, furious even.

As I waited at Jessica's door, I briefly wondered if perhaps, given what had just happened to her Maker, she had high tailed it back to Bon Temps, I knew she would've felt Bill's pain from the silver through their bond, or so I assumed. Imagine my shock with a blurry eyed, half naked Hoyt answered the door, looking mussed and sheepish as he flushed Ferrari red and muttered a stuttered 'Hi Sookie' to his toes. Uh-huh. I couldn't resist, Hoyt's just too easy sometimes, and he needed to be teased, just a _little_.

"Hi yourself," I gave him my wide smile, leaning my hip against the door frame, "Why Hoyt Fortenberry, does your mama know you're out past your curfew?" My tone was playful, and in response, the doe-eyed boy turned away slightly to hide a shy smile, his ears pinkening to match his neck as he muttered something about not quite getting around to telling her about this yet… I'll bet.

"Sookie," Jessica appeared in a vampire flash behind her boyfriend, peeking around me as if expecting Bill at any moment, her face all sorts of 'hand caught in the cookie jar', if she only knew how much trouble her Maker was in, she wouldn't have bothered. It was all too clear how she hadn't realized what was happening downstairs; it seemed she had been plenty preoccupied here. Good for her.

"Why Jessica, red looks good on you," I winked at the blush enflaming her usually ivory pale cheeks, she smirked a bit, in that almost afraid to be happy way she has. Shame about Bill being her Maker, I liked Jessica a lot, she deserved better than some uninvolved prick who didn't give her the proper time of day when it came to explaining her condition and its urges. For that matter, so did I.

"Sorry to interrupt," I added, because they were just standing there and staring at me like two gob smacked children, "but we've got a situation, and it can't exactly wait." I gave Jessica an apologetic look, "Vampire business." She bit her lip, measuring the man next to her, and then turned back to me, that determination I admire about her written across her delicate features.

"Tell Bill that I can see whoever I please," she ground out, clearly aggravated, "That _includes_ Hoyt, and I'm not going to eat him or anything, I swear! We're just having some…fun, and if he thinks he can run my life-or death-or whatever- then he's…"

"Jessica," I cut her off, holding up my hand at her quickly escalating rant, apparently Bill had been trying to play dad again, I couldn't blame her resentment. Nor her defense of her own intentions, she might've lost it a bit at her family's house, but even I could tell she was getting a handle on things, or so I hoped. She needed to be a quick learner, especially without Bill to offer what little help he had been, maybe if I asked Eric… Yeah, because he was _so_ known for doing favors, uh-huh, and the sky was pink and green and filled with flying pigs….

"Yes?" She blinked rapidly while trying to calm herself; new vampires have serious temper issues. Then she inhaled, and her face morphed from defensive and self righteous to openly curious, "Sookie, why do you smell like…." She sniffed my general vicinity, her eyes half lidded as she tried to place the scent, "Eric, and something…." her nose crinkled, expression mystified, "older." I laughed; I'd have to tell Godric sometime that he smelled like 'something older'.

"You can smell that?" Hoyt looked far from disgusted, more like impressed, hugging one arm around the now nodding red head and beaming like he was holding the most beautiful, precious thing he could ever imagine. I tried not to feel envy, but it was hard.

"You are _not_ going to believe my day," I eyed the interior of her room meaningfully, "Can I come in or…?" She cocked her head, gazed in lovesick deliberation at a still blushing Hoyt, and finally nodded, pouting a bit at having to postpone her fun, and dragging the large boy with her like a pull toy, a happy skip to her step that made her look almost as if she were gliding across the white carpet. Ah, to be sixteen again.

Hoyt stared after her like she was the end all be all, totally besotted. They were cuter than a box of kittens, and I hated myself for breaking up all this new love bliss with my dump truck of bad news. As I wandered in I took note of the emptied bottles of True Blood in the trash, glad Jessica was being smart and keeping her hunger down, Hoyt was a nice boy, and while Jessica would never hurt him on purpose, she might on accident if the thirst got too bad, and that would be flat out horrible.

Staring at them, looking so sweet and all caught up in one another, I couldn't help but bitterly reflect that this was how a girl's first love _should_ go. With the cute looks, and affection, not like mine, with the death, lies, and subterfuge. Shoving aside my own jealousy, I got down to the matter at hand, the whole story spilled out of me faster than milk spills from a toppled cup, and you know what they say, there's no point crying over spilt milk. I told them everything, from my accidental ingestion of Eric and Godric's blood, to spending the night in Eric's room, to my breakfast with Jason and the meeting with Nan Flannery, everything, Hoyt looked a bit like his head was hurting when I finished, his brow furrowed, and his mouth grim. Jessica sat statue still, that unnerving immobility that only a vampire can project, her gold-red hair a shimmering curtain about her moon pale face, her heavily lashed eyes wide but frozen. After a brief length of time, where I waited in tense, nail biting silence, the red head let out a short, hiccupped mewl, before bursting into blood red tears.

"I-I-I-I'm _so_ sorry," she blubbered, fisting her hands in her eyes to hide her bloody tears, chest heaving in unneeded breaths, crumpling into herself like a crushed doll. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so very, very sorry, ," she repeated in a thick mantra as Hoyt and I exchanged startled looks, our faces perfect candids of utter confusion as she wept like the world was ending, Hoyt's large arm encompassing her quaking shoulders as he mumbled reassurances to her, distraught and floundering helplessly like most men do when subjected to tears.

"For what?" I tapped her knee, drawing her red painted features to myself, "Jessica, what on _earth_ do you have to be sorry for?" She gave me a frightened, nearly panicked look, eyes wide, lips trembling.

"He said I couldn't tell," my stomach plummeted at her words, "that I was being a nosy Nelly, and that if I did he'd never forgive me, but Sookie, this is _all my fault_!" She wailed, on the floor in the blink of an eye, hands holding my knees, looking up to me like some imploring angel, or a fallen Madonna, so beautiful, humbled and pleading, more blood flowing from her pretty blue eyes as she gazed upward in forlorn appeal.

"You knew?" My words were a faint, horrified whisper. She winced, whipping back as if I'd struck her, and then began shaking her head empathetically, red hair flying like glossy red ribbons about her face and shoulders as her mouth widened in a horrified 'O'.

"No! No, I'd never do something so awful, Sookie," she promised, but her denial shortly folded into a look of such despair, misery eating at her so obviously, "It's just, Oh Sookie!" She wrapped her arms around my legs, spilling her words in rapid fire, "I saw Bill's box, and I wasn't even looking for it, I swear! I wasn't supposed to be in his room, but I needed something, and he wasn't there, and there was the box, and it was all sitting there, looking neat and all… but Sookie," she clasped my hands, eyes wide and serious, "inside was all this _stuff_. At first it looked like history homework, with the family trees and all, I didn't think it was anything bad, but it had a bunch of names on it, and it looked real old…" She cut off her ramble, it was so easy to see that she was only sixteen sometimes, but there was something sharper there too, something inhuman and wild, she inhaled a unneeded breath, "Sookie, under the old stuff was a bunch of photos, most of them you, and some of them from when you were a _baby_, and then there was all this fancy writing about house leases, and deeds, and that's not the worst part!" She cried in her distraught drawl, outraged in my defense, "He had _notes_, like weird, stalker notes, about your likes and dislikes, your car color, it was _all sorts _of creepy, and I knew it was bad, I _knew_, but he got real angry and started shouting that if I told…." She swallowed hard, brief panic flickering "He's gone isn't he?" I nodded in mute assurance, and she let out a gusty sigh of relief, "He said he'd kick me out, and I had no other place to go…"

Her chin began to tremble again as she stared up at me again, convincingly heartbroken, her voice a hesitant tremor as she asked, "Do you hate me for not saying anything?" She gripped me in hug that would likely bruise anyone who hadn't just drank from two centuries old vampires, wrapping her arms around my neck in a vice as she flung herself on me, sobbing into my hair while begging, "Please don't, please don't hate me, I'm_ so_ sorry Sookie!"

"Jessica, I don't hate you," I promised, stroking her siren red hair and smiling down at her indulgently, "You couldn't have known what that box was for, heck, even if you'd told me I probably wouldn't have believed you." I had been _so_ blind when it came to Bill, so oblivious, my denial so strong, I might have just dismissed Jessica's findings as a fluke, or told myself she had to have been mistaken. Anything at all to protect my heart, which it turns out, was destined to be broken one way or another; at least this way doesn't have me as some mind reading tool for a lesbian vampire Queen, that's got to count for something, right? Gran always told me to count my blessings, _especially _when they are few and far between. Too bad at the moment the sum of them could hardly fill one hand.

I pried Jessica's unnaturally strong grip off my neck softly but firmly, handing her a Kleenex for the trails of ruby blood still streaked beneath her eyes, she dabbed at them, wiping away the evidence of her scarlet sobbing, while Hoyt watched, fascinated. Not that creepy sort of fascinated either, but that awe filled, I can't believe she's all mine look that made my heart swell for them both, at least Jessica wouldn't be alone. Plus, she'd have me, I wasn't about to abandon my be-fanged neighbor anytime soon, she'd probably need some looking after, and with Bill out of the picture I guess I just assumed that the babysitting duty fell to me, after all, it was half my fault she was a vampire to begin with.

"So Bill's gone," Jessica sighed, blowing her hair from her face in a gusty breath, "I can't even feel him right now, he's so far away," she reported, tilting her head curiously, she shrugged, seemingly ambivalent to the news, "No offense Sook," she told me with a very teenage expression on her face, "but I ain't exactly going to miss him, he wasn't very nice, _at all_." I giggled, leaning back in the chair I sat in and going limp as a noodle, just letting myself relax for the first time in hours felt nice, wonderful even, and then I realized, I wasn't going to really miss him either, not much anyway. I'd miss the man I thought he was, the dark, handsome stranger who picked me, little old crazy Sookie, out of all the other girls, I'd miss the way he said my name, like gravel and fire, but beyond that, all I felt was achy, empty, like I'd already gutted him out of me, shaken it off. Did that make me a horrible person? Just letting go of my first love, just like that? In the snap of a finger?

"You're telling _me_," I exclaimed to Jessica, grinning wryly, "You're not the one he was planning to sell." She giggled, fingers over her lips, mouth wide and grinning even as she hid her smile.

"I don't think you would've made that easy on him," she pointed out confidently, her blue eyes twinkled mischievous, "and neither would've _Eric_." She said his name in sing-song, a know-it-all smirk on her red lips, Hoyt just resigned himself to watching, leaning back with his arm slung around Jessica and looking as content as if he had a cold beer in his hand and a football game on the television.

"So…?" Jessica prompted, leaning forward, eyes eager. I crossed my arms, not willing to give in so easily.

"So, what?" I raised my eyebrows at her expectantly. She giggled, rolling her eyes at me.

"For goodness sake Sookie! You smell like you rolled all over him and then some," Jessica exclaimed in a girly squeal, "Don't tell me you haven't…you know…_done it_." She giggled, "Cuz he's real hot, and from what I heard at Fangtasia he's like, well, _you know_, what with that blonde hair, and _those eyes_," she sighed dreamily, earning a worried glance from Hoyt, she patted his knee affectionately, reassuring, "Course he's bossy and a real jerk when he wants to be, but I've seen the way he looks at you, all _Sookie, Mmmm…._" She cracked up at the look on my face, "Oh come _on_, you know it's true."

"You should see his Maker," I told her seriously, cracking a small smile myself, "Besides, I happen to know he's got a basement full of trouble, and a head full of bad ideas, I mean, what sort of man sits on a _throne_ all night? Lord's sake, Jessica, I just don't know anymore." I admitted, groaning. The red head nodded sympathetically. Just then, her boyfriend stood, looking bashful at interrupting.

"Why don't I make you up a True Blood, and get dressed?" Hoyt suggested, kissing her cheek before he stood, "This girl talk stuff is a bit over my head." Jessica giggled, throwing her arms around him and giving him an enthusiastic smooch that had him blushing all the way to the bathroom, clothes in hand, occasionally throwing sheepish, lovesick looks her way as he did so. She was on cloud nine, practically bouncing in her seat as she sat across from me, I'd never seen her so happy.

"Okay, so I admit, he's kind of scary," Jessica punctuated this with a nod, and then shrugged, "and that basement is super creepy, but Pam says that all Sheriffs are expected to have holding cells, and compared to a lot of others, I guess Eric's is supposed to be sort of nice. I mean, as nice as being chained up and probably killed can get, but that's vampires for you, they're not exactly polite, are they?" she spoke in a hushed tone, likely to keep Hoyt from knowing just how bad things could really get, it wasn't like Jessica chained people up or anything, but people can be funny when it comes to vampires and stereotypes. I didn't blame her for wanted to introduce her boyfriend to things slowly, I only hoped she didn't plan to keep him in the dark forever, keeping him ignorant wouldn't be doing him any favors.

"He put one of my friends in there," I told her, shuddering at the memory of Lafayette's condition when he first got back from that horrible place, that haunted look in his eyes, the dead trudge to his steps that had nothing to do with the bullet wound in his leg, "I don't think I could trust a man who would do that to someone, keep them all chained up like a dog," I bit my lip, "it's just not right."

"Shit," Jessica said with feeling, "He killed one of your friends?" I shook my head, shocked she'd jumped to the worst conclusion.

"No, he let him go," I admitted, "sort of. It's complicated." Like everything else in my life, I added silently. Jessica cocked her head, considering, looking like an inquisitive red bird with her big round eyes and thinned lips.

"Well that's a first," she commented softly, peering at me like she was trying to work something out, I raised my eyebrows expectantly, "Normally the people who go down there, they don't come back up. At least, no one did while I was staying there." She gave me a pointed look, I'd almost forgotten Jessica had spent her first few weeks as a vampire at Fangtasia, "He probably let him go because he was your friend," she decided, smirking knowingly, "I didn't even know who you were when I was staying there, it was before I'd ever seen Bon Temps, or met anybody, but Pam was always teasing Eric about 'that blonde waitress', and when I met you, and figured out who you were, I was really shocked to find out you were already Bill's. I mean, the way Pam put it, it just seemed… well, it seemed like Eric liked you, _a lot._" She grinned smugly, "All the other girls were real jealous, especially that foreign one, Yvette or whatever, she asked me if I thought she should dye her hair blonde," Jessica giggled, "guess I know why now." She eyed my blonde hair meaningfully.

My nose crinkled, Yvette, the dancer he'd been all preoccupied with that one time, who could forget her? Well, I'd tried, but she'd sort of made a lasting first impression. "Eric just wants me for my telepathy," I told the younger girl, not sure who I was trying to convince, "he's not interested in a relationship or anything, and I'm not exactly signing up to be one of those girls he amuses himself with for a while before he gets bored and finds something better." I swallowed, my insecurities lined up on the table for all to see. Jessica snorted, looking highly unconvinced.

"If he wanted you for that, he wouldn't have had to wait," she pointed out, "he's Sheriff, he could've just taken you from Bill anytime he wanted, easy as pie." She held out her hands, "Not that I'm claiming to be an expert or anything, he didn't really bother that much with me, he thinks I'm annoying," she rolled her eyes with a huff, apparently insulted at the insinuation, "but I saw him around a lot, looking all mean and big," she smiled affectionately, "but when he thinks no one's watching, he just sits there, looking all sad and lonely, Pam told me if I ever bugged him when he was like that she'd cut me up herself." Jessica scowled at the memory, but then turned back to me, giddy and bright once more,

"What's his Maker like?" She questioned, inquisitive and eager. I sighed in relief that the topic had changed from Eric. Imagining him in his tomb-like club, sitting all alone, looking sad and abandoned did funny things to my chest, made it feel like it was under a heavy pressure, while my stomach clenched and twisted, it was a gut reaction that I didn't want to examine too closely, for fear of what I'd find. I couldn't be stupid enough to get out of one bad relationship just to waltz into the next one, could I?

"Nice, like, really nice," I told her with a soft smile, "and cute, you should see his tattoos." Jessica's eyes widened to the size of platters. I laughed, "Yep, he's got them all over, from here," I gestured to my neck, "all down his arms, they're black and spiky, tribal I think, but from what everyone's been saying he's the oldest vampire in _America_, can you imagine?" She shook her head, enthralled. "He's more human than any vampire I've ever met, if that makes sense, he saved my life…twice, now that I think about it. He's the one that found out what Bill was up to, and he told that harpy Nan Flannery that I was his, just so I wouldn't be taken to the _Queen_, which is what Bill had decided, that jerk," I said the last with venom, how could he? Even with his pretty farewell speech, that didn't explain why he'd told Nan that I was the property of the Authority once they'd taken him into custody, he'd _given me up_, and then had the balls to sit and act like _I'd_ betrayed _him_. As if. The more I thought about it, the less I liked him. In fact, I hoped he never showed his face around Bon Temps, ever again, the town was better off without him, and so was I.

"You get to have all the fun," Jessica complained half heartedly, at my incredulous look she hastily added, "Well, not the almost getting blown up part, or the Fellowship guys and their cage and shit, or what Bill did to you, cuz that just sucks ass," she assured me, "but now you got two hot vampires to chose from, you are _so_ lucky!" Like me, Jessica didn't swear naturally, the words sounded a bit odd coming from her mouth, but unlike me, she was enthusiastic about making cussing a part of her regular speech pattern, now that she could do so without fear of repercussion. I blamed this on her repressed upbringing, and also credited it to Fangtasia's influence.

"You can have them," I told her in mock seriousness, making a face and earning a giggle. She pretended to consider it and then shook her head.

"Nah, got me a great guy right here," she smiled at Hoyt like he was the cat's meow, he smiled back softly, having reemerged from the bathroom in a pair of jeans and a plaid button down shirt, and puttered around the microwave and mini fridge getting Jessica a bottle of True Blood, heated to body temperature. Hopefully his young girlfriend would try and influence his wardrobe, the poor boy still looked like his mama dressed him. Knowing his mama, she probably tried, that woman just didn't know how to cut the apron strings. Jessica took the drink and glared at it like it'd betrayed her.

"I hate this stuff," she admitted, lips twisted in disgust, "it's so gross." She made a face before swallowing it all down, obviously fighting a gag reflex as she did so, after she finished it all in three very long gulps, she made another face, setting the bottle far from herself and eyeing it like it might turn into a rattle snake at any moment and bite her. She pouted at Hoyt, lip jutted out petulantly, "I miss eating food, I mean, real blood tastes _sooo _good, but this crap is totally gross, like, eating dirt gross." His eyes widened.

"I thought True Blood was supposed to taste good to vampires?" he supplied in shock, eyeing the empty bottle sadly, his mind filled with empathy for his girlfriend's situation. I vaguely recalled the night Hoyt ordered a True Blood at the town bar, it'd been Merlotte's gossip for a while, and I'd seen plenty of people waggling there tongue about it, a byproduct of having a nasty gossip for a mother was plenty of people would jump at the chance to smear her name through you, but I'd thought his attempt to understand, while a bit odd, was rather adorable. I'd always felt a bit sorry for Hoyt, he was such a nice guy, even now I could hear his brain debating whether offering his blood to Jessica when I left was a good idea. He wasn't even scared, nervous maybe, but more afraid she'd reject his offer than anything else. Sweet, but a little on the naïve side.

Sometimes being a telepath has its advantages, Hoyt should _not_ be opening a vein for Jessica without supervision, she was too new to have complete control of herself yet, if Bill had taught me anything useful, it was that, "Look, I'll talk to Eric, see if maybe he had some pointers," I suggested, "I know you can drink from a person without hurting them, but Bill said new vampires have a hard time stopping themselves, it's so new it's easy to get carried away," as I spoke Jessica's eyes brightened from dull and miserable to bright and hopeful, "I know you're supposed to be mainstreaming," I added reproachfully, earning a small frown from the petite red head, "but even Bill drank from me, and honestly, every other vampire I met isn't too fond of those True Bloods either."

I turned to Hoyt, who was watching the two of us thoughtfully, wondering if perhaps he could be the first volunteer for this experiment, "I'll see if I can arrange a donor, they've got plenty of them here, this being a vampire hotel and all, and when you get the hang of it," I eyed Hoyt meaningfully, "_then_ you can go ahead and do it on your own, whenever. But control comes first." I emphasized the last strongly.

The human boy nodded, showing he understood, but I was far more convinced when I heard the echoed agreement in his thoughts, he wanted to be there for Jessica in any way possible, but he understood the logic behind what I said. Besides, the fangers here wouldn't mind a scar or two if things got a little rough, but if Hoyt returned to Bon Temps looking like someone tried to chew through his jugular, there'd be quite a stir. Not to even _mention _what his mama would say.

"Oh thank you Sookie!" Jessica flung herself in another full body hold, latching to my neck, I'd have to break her of this habit before the vampire blood in me wore off, or next time I'd have more than a stiff neck for my trouble. "You're the best!" She squealed, excited as all get out. "I wish you'd been my Maker," she added on impulse, eyeing me wistfully.

"Jessica! I'm not even a vampire!" I protested with a laugh. She shrugged one shoulder.

"You'd make a better one than Bill, all he ever said was no," she pouted, imitating Bill in that unnerving way of hers, even managing his husky southern drawl to near perfection, her expression a glower, "No Jessica, you may not drink from humans. No Jessica, that skirt is too short. No Jessica, you may not go out tonight. No, no, no! It's all he ever said." She slumped back into her seat with a huff, interlacing her fingers with Hoyt's, "He was no fun at all." I smirked, trying not to recall Bill, but hearing her speak like that brought it all rushing back to the surface. I needed to get out of here before I did something stupid, like cry again over a guy who definitely wasn't worth my tears.

"Alright, you two behave," I told them with a wink, standing up and stretching my back in a feline arch, I sighed as it cracked, relieving the tension, "I've got to talk to Eric, and I should probably check in on Jason, that boy's a magnet for trouble." Hoyt brightened, suddenly curious.

"Jason's here?" He asked, excited that his friend was staying in the same hotel, his mind buzzing with things he wanted to talk to him about. Jason was _so_ not worth the hero worshiping he got from the larger boy, but I figured that it wasn't my place to say so.

"Yeah, and don't ask why," I told him, "That boy is so stupid sometimes I could just spit." Jessica nodded sympathetically, and Hoyt shrugged, still grinning that his buddy was around. "He's two doors down on the left if you want to say hi," I added nonchalantly, earning a grateful nod from Hoyt.

Given the sultry look Jessica was shooting him though, I was betting he wouldn't get around to stopping by until around sunrise, when his girlfriend would go to rest for the day. I left the two lovebirds to have their fun, hugging Jessica one last time and giving Hoyt a friendly smile and nod, which he returned in kind. I shut the door behind me, thoughtfully hanging a Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of their room's door handle, smirking a bit as I did so. Jessica deserved some fun and happiness, and so did Hoyt, they were perfect for one another really, both of them shy and as sweet as honey, completely earnest but a bit on the naïve side. I envied their relationship, just a little, but I comforted myself with the fact that at least with Jessica living next door I wouldn't feel so lonely when I returned to Bon Temps, minus my vampire boyfriend.

I stared at the door, busying myself with shifting my feet, toying with my purse, in short, I was using every stall technique in the book, and some new ones I'd just thought up, my mind as erratic and off beat as the thudded tempo pulsing in my chest. I could _feel_ him in there; his blood reacted to itself, pulsing with excitement in reaction to his close proximity, reminding me how connected we were now, for better or for worse. I tried to sense his emotions, but as was usually the case with Eric, they were confusing, not unlike the vampire himself, and chalk full of contradictions.

For instance, I could tell he was happy about something, pleased as a cat with a bowl of cream, but he was also agitated, and it all seemed to stem from the same source, simultaneously. I'd almost say he felt nervous, but it was sort of hard to imagine someone as arrogant as Eric Northman being intimidated by anything to the point where he got unsure of himself, he always seemed so in control. Even during that first night in Fangtasia, when the police had raided his bar, he'd been the picture of cool confidence and decisive action amidst the panic and chaos, and I could sense his present discord with the feelings he was currently experiencing, all wrapped up beneath a happiness that was slowly draining into impatience. I wondered why he'd be impatient, so I tried sorting through his emotions, trying to separate them from my own, which was no easy task, by the by, but nothing became any clearer, if anything, it all just became more muddled.

That's when I realized he could feel me too (duh) and was well aware of how long I'd been standing outside his room, debating, and perhaps trying to talk myself into leaving, or maybe I was trying to convince myself to go in there and just get it over with, I hadn't really decided yet. I only wished I knew how I'd react to him, or how he'd react to me, I wasn't used to being uncertain either, and it was driving me crazy. On that account, I supposed we were on equal footing. I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and decided that I was being silly, it was just Eric, after all, how many times had I seen him, talked with him, heck, even fought with him? This time would be no different. Well, except that I could now sense his feelings, and he could sense mine. Crap.

The second my hand raised itself to knock on the black door, it swung open, revealing the six foot four blue eyed Viking in all his glory, black denim jeans form fitted to his muscular hips and legs, a thin cotton t-shirt stretching across his broad chest, emphasizing the contours of his muscles. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry, and a slow, lazy grin spread across his lips, arrogant appraisal etched across his masculine features, his five o'clock shadow and glittering blue eyes made him the perfect picture of temptation. He seemed well aware of it, too.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," the words just spilled out, provoked by my need to say something, _anything_ to break the sexual tension, which was and would always be, the proverbial elephant in the room when it came to the two of us, I foolishly hoped if I ignored it, it would go away, while Eric, well…we'll just say he usually went with the more direct approach. He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest, looking down at me in mute amusement.

"And if you were?" He prompted, expectant and amused. I hated how he teased me.

"Then I'd have come back at a better time," I responded blithely, not sure what he was playing at. He seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding to himself, stepping back to allow me entrance to the dim interior of the hotel room we'd shared the night before, his dark eyes never leaving my form as I strutted through the entrance, displaying my bravado in spades. I could feel his blue eyes boring into me, almost like a physical pressure at the base of my spine, sending tingles spiraling through my nervous system, firing the synapses, jolting my nerve endings in the sweetest form of torture. There was a great deal of nerves and sexual tension spilling between us through the blood bond, but not knowing who's it was, or whether it was in fact, both of ours, I decided feigning ignorance was best. After all, they do say ignorance is bliss.

"Red is your color," he mused, stepping in behind me and shutting the door, my recently enhanced senses caught the catch of a lock being turned, and I fought hard to pretend that it didn't matter. Even though I was busy looking preoccupied with debating where to sit, I could still feel his stare, moving over me, assessing, calculating, memorizing every curve and dip of the snug red top and equally tight blue jeans I was wearing, "Red and gold, and smelling like sunshine…" He purred at a nearly inaudible level, following it with a louder, and less mystifying, "Tell me Miss Stackhouse, do you own anything other than cotton dresses and blue jeans?" I shot him a look over my shoulder, a frown working its way across my mouth. We were discussing fashion preferences now?

"Do you own anything but tight shirts and leather pants?" I countered crossly, doubly thrown off when his eyes seemed to grow brighter, more feral in the lighting, his lips spreading in a small grin.

"Actually, I've recently acquired a telepath, and I've been dying to try her on," he growled in a husky murmur, eyebrows arched, and lips curved into a devilish smirk as I flushed redder than a fire truck. I knew he'd set me up for that one, the shameless womanizer.

"You're very good at that," I muttered once my cheeks weren't quite so red, and he didn't look quite so proud of himself. He nodded, perching on the black recliner the room held much as he did on his throne in Fangtasia, looking broody and delectable all at once, and dangerous, let's not forgot that.

"Years of practice," he allowed matter-of-factly, tilting his head up at me he added, "I've grown rather fond of that blush of yours, Miss Stackhouse," he flashed his teeth at me, "especially since I have come to learn it does not stem from some false sense of modesty, as is the case with most mortals." His blonde brows drew downward, face a picture of thoughtful consideration, "It does cause me to wonder, however…." He paused, ice blue eyes glinting, head cocked charmingly, "If it is not modesty that tints your cheeks so red, what could it be?" His comment, of course, caused me to blush again, his eyes frankly predatory as he asked a question he knew darn well I had no intention of answering, because frankly, he had no business asking.

"You can read my emotions, you tell me," I countered, biting my lip and reluctantly seating myself across from him, having decided on the large, plush leather sofa that sat adjacent from the recliner he currently occupied. The cool fabric melted around me like butter on a frying pan as I sank into it, making me feel infinitely smaller, suffocated, and a little trapped even. Or perhaps that was just Eric's doing. The man seemed positively incapable of not pressing all my buttons, just to see what reaction he'd get. Like those kids who can't walk away from a vending machine until they've slapped all ten choices, hit the coin return, and played with the flap, just to see if anything will surprise them, or if this time will be like all the times before it.

The blonde stapled his fingers, peering at me in consideration, "I wouldn't presume to know what emotions you feel," he said at long last, flashing his teeth again like an irked jungle cat, "most of those you commonly exhibit are foreign to me." I'll bet, emotions like mercy, compassion, sympathy, ect…. would not be feelings Eric was used to feeling himself, let alone feeling through me. However, what I said was,

"Oh come on," I scoffed in disbelief, "You can't mean to tell me that you don't know what emotions are," I gave him a puckish look, utterly unconvinced, "I saw you _exhibit _plenty of them myself when we were looking for Godric." I pointed out the last firmly, crossing my arms and eyeing him incredulously, my foot tapping a bit against the floor, a habit I'd picked up from Gran. He smirked, but I felt a spike of irritation peak between us, mine and his, like a mutual static shock of dislike.

"There are those that come more naturally to me than others," he revealed in begrudging admittance, "For instance, an emotion such as jealousy, I can understand," he informed me, examining his clasped hands as if they were singularly most fascinating thing in the room, it caused his eyelashes to sweep downward, casting his expression in shadows, hiding his icy eyes, "You felt as much when you noticed the lipstick stain on my shirt earlier this evening." I could feel his smirk, even if I couldn't see it. My jaw dropped, the eavesdropping, arrogant, instigating…! As if I was jealous! As if I _cared_ who got her smutty lipstick on his silly shirt collar, of all the stupid, unbelievable, idiotic things….

Likely sensing my rising desire to leap the distance between us and throttle him, he commented with lips now openly twitching against a smirk, "Anger, I know that one as well," he then smiled in an insufferably knowing way, before faltering into a blank, nearly miffed look, "but these jumbles, these mass storms of mixed feelings that you so often indulge in, are entirely beyond me." He spread his hands in a manner that seemed to indicate this was my failing, and not his. One day I'd like to know how he does that, turns the tables around on a person so easily, while sounding so entitled to boot. He must've learned it from Godric; they're both too good at it.

"Well, tough," I huffed, still smarting about his 'jealous' remark. Categorizing him as a smug, know-it-all bastard. "Just so you know, yours are no picnic either, could you _try_ not being aroused for, I don't know, five seconds in a row?" I laced my question with heavy disgust, rolling my eyes at him.

"Possibly." At my annoyed scowl he merely grinned, fangs peeking from his flashed smile as he arched an arrogant eyebrow in an upward slash. "If I can handle three hours of your blubbering self pity and wallowing, surely you can manage a few sporadic desires on my behalf?" There was a challenge in his tone, and a good amount of condescension, and as always, it riled me, especially the condescension, speaking down to me is a lot like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Be prepared for an unpleasant reaction.

"I hardly even notice it," I lied haughtily, crossing my arms and turning up my nose at him. Looking away caused me to miss the triumphant grin that flashed like lightning across his chiseled features, making him look demonically handsome and ever so delighted with himself, after all, Eric Northman is his own biggest fan.

"Good," he concluded, "Then it will not bother you that the incident in particular, the very one that I have no doubt you are referring to, was the result of none other than yourself." My mouth dropped, I _had_ felt his lustful and hormonally driven peak of arousal in the midst of my explanation to Jessica, it'd been so intense, so acutely overriding my senses, that it had actually caused me to stutter and lose my place mid-sentence, causing me to grow red as a tomato and stammer idiotically until it receded to something less than a 'tear your clothes off and fuck you senseless' level of desire. However, there was no cotton picking way it'd been _my_ fault, because as I said, I'd been in another room, far removed from the oversexed vampire seated before me. My eyes narrowed into slivers.

"Your sick fantasies are your business, Eric, not mine," I managed to bite out coolly, my hands tightening where I had them crossed over my arms, this wasn't going how I intended at _all_. He chuckled darkly under his breath, suddenly focusing all of his attention on me, and it was hardly the sort of sensation that I enjoyed, it made my stomach flip flop, my pulse hammer, and sent a jolt of suppressed longing through me that was nearly painful, yet not, I sucked in my breath and held it, trying to reign in my wayward libido. Unfortunately, oxygen deprivation was not the answer.

"My _sick_ fantasies," he mimicked, testing the words, his crystalline eyes pierced me, mouth falling into a grim line, "Firstly, my fantasies are entirely healthy, perhaps a they seem dark to an innocent no-nothing such as yourself, but they _are_ in fact _my_ business, and mine alone." He seethed, defensive and annoyed, I bristled at the 'innocent no-nothing' remark, "Secondly, unlike the untrained puppies you have sniffing at your skirts and practically wetting themselves at the mere glimpse of your backside, I do not often have to resort to fantasizing, there is no shortage of women willing to fill my bed. Eagerly, even."

"Where you _always_ such a pig?" I demanded in a huff, sitting up straighter in my seat and channeling my inner Tara, indignant and insulted. He ignored me, continuing as if I'd never interrupted to begin with.

"Lastly, _Sookie_," if Bill said my name like fire and gravel, then Eric said it like silk and ice, biting, yet sensual, cold, yet entirely too familiar, ever a man of endless contradictions, even his damn voice was at odds with itself, I shivered at the sound, "if you wish to prevent a repeat performance, not that I did not enjoy it immensely," he smirked, eyes glittering, "you would simply have to refrain from leaving your bloodied dresses in my bathroom, and the scent of your body all over my bed." I swallowed uneasily at the pang of lust the remembrance still stirred in him, "The combination of those two aromas is quite a potent aphrodisiac," he gazed at me heatedly, "Which reminds me, _what_ exactly, were you doing in my bed?" the Viking leered openly, raising both of his eyebrows in a suggestive manner as his full mouth quirked sensually.

"Wallowing and blubbering," I replied primly, "remember?" His smirk lengthened and sharpened, cutting across his mouth in a mocking manner.

"And hugging my pillow," he added in a blasé drawl, at my stunned regard he tilted his head, massively enjoying himself at my expense, "Or is the correct term cuddling?"

"You can tell that from smell?" I was horrified, and when I'm horrified my mouth tends to blurt on automatic, it also sounds a bit like I've just been pinched. There were easily seven pillows on the massive silk covered bed, but one of them was black silk, and obviously Eric's personal pillow (why he had to have his _own_ was beyond me, but there you have it). That I'd been an emotional wreck and used _that one_ specifically as a comfort pillow, instinctively cradling it to myself, was something I'd sincerely hoped no one would ever discover. That _he_, of all people, knew about it, was the worst of the worst. Mortification, thy name is Sookie Stackhouse.

"If you sought my comfort," he purred, "you could have always forgone pilfering my bed things and simply requested my company," his expression was utterly blank, body perfectly still, as still as a marble statue, or a jungle cat preparing to pounce. I tried to snoop into his emotions, but like his face, he was controllingthem, stone walling me at every turn. Aggravating man.

"Uh-huh…" I mumbled in a highly unconvinced manner, at his insulted frown I snorted derisively, adding matter-of-factly, "And you would've been _so_ thrilled to have some weepy girl hanging on you, I'm so sure." By this point, I'd picked up on his discomfort with what he would deem human sentiment, and I used it against him, if he was truly merciless, as he so liked to claim, he should've appreciated the effort.

His eyes narrowed, lips thinning, openly displaying his disdain for the idea, but I stilled in my seat, frozen in shock, as I felt a peak of intrigue that he couldn't hide, sizzling in the blood that flowed through my body, revealing his disgust as a ruse, a lie. All I could think at the time was _seriously? That makes him _curious? Which part? It never occurred to me that me coming him to comfort, even as a sobbing wreck, was enough to intrigue him, merely because he knew I did not share my weaknesses easily, and the idea of me sharing them with him, was oddly appealing to him.

"That _is_ a revolting image," he commented dryly, examining the ceiling, "I rather pictured it with a lot less sniveling, and much less clothes." At this, he gave me a heatedly expectant look, trying to thrust himself back into familiar territory, where he was nothing but a womanizing cad, and I was just another potential romp in his bed. Where my feelings didn't matter, and therefore could not affect him. Eric, amongst many other things, is a master of self delusion, and I agree with Godric that this is more often than not to his detriment, especially when it came to me.

"That's why I chose the pillow," I retorted, smug that this time I'd actually won the verbal spar. Why we always fought, I'll never know, just that we seemed to each and every time we were left in a room for more than ten minutes with one another. Godric would later raise his eyebrows and ask if I recalled his first analogy, of Eric as a human child, the inference being he was picking on the girl he really liked, in response I would stick out my tongue and sadly, prove his point. We were both such children.

"Be that as it may, I have no doubt my methods would have been far more satisfactory," he proclaimed smugly, locking his fingers behind his head and leaning back farther into the leather recliner, I could feel the pleasure that merely _thinking_ about it was giving him, and it startled me a little. "In any event, you did not come to discuss your earlier theatrics, I presume?"

"This would be a lot easier if you weren't such an ass," I complained, huffing, the last thing I felt like doing now was asking him a favor. I figured he'd just poke fun at me and then refuse anyhow.

"Pamela often remarks as much," he agreed, suddenly amiable, and as always, full of mood swings. He peered at me, the corners of his mouth lifting as he leaned like some lazy deity or pompous king, eyeing me in an expectant manner. He obviously wanted me to elaborate for my reasons for being there.

"Oh hell's bells, alright, I need a favor," I figured it was like ripping off a band aid, the sooner you did it, the sooner it'd be over. He paused, and I could sense his genuine surprise. This, he hadn't expected. I grinned happily, shocking Eric was such a rarity, it was fun. He had this whole 'seen it all' 'done it all' thing going for him, and being unpredictable to someone who'd live for two centuries was something I didn't take lightly, even if I still thought he was a total jerk.

"And you think you're entitled to one?" He enquired in that almost nice, but mostly threatening tone of his, it's a too pleasant to be genuine sort of attitude that let's on that he's more agitated than he'd care for you to know. Nothing was openly aggressive about his tone or stance, but I could feel the tension grazing our bond, thick and stifling.

"You and Godric sure had a hell of a time using me like a human drinking fountain, so yes, I suppose I do," I pointed out calmly, smiling my crazy Sookie smile, so sweet your teeth ache from the sight of it, my sugary southern charm coated in a layer of BS sprinkles. No, I hadn't quite forgiven him for his and Godric's stunt, even if I'd been acting like a hysterical and quite melodramatic child over the whole Bill thing, what they'd done to me was wrong, no ifs ands or buts about it. My good graces were currently not extended to anyone who'd been in that room, including Godric, Eric, especially Bill, and hell, even that icy diplomat Nan Flannery, that frigid bitch could take a stroll in the sunlight for all I cared. I have no tolerance for rude people.

"So you would've preferred the company of Sophie-Anne?" I felt his surge of annoyance and irritation, bubbling just beneath that aloof exterior was one seriously annoyed vampire, "I assure you that can still be arranged," he supplied in a blood icing manner, completely unrepentant, suddenly (and I felt rather inexplicably) hostile. I glared at him, feeling much the same, or maybe that was just his emotions affecting me, I couldn't tell, and I didn't care.

"You know that's not what I meant," I hissed, outraged, "You'all could've told me last night about your suspicions, but no, you had to drop it on me like a ton of bricks without so much as a warning, and what's more, no one hardly explained a damn thing to me before I'm being sucked on like a keg of beer at a frat party by two men I barely know," I growled, sitting up straight and giving him a level look, "You might be used to non-stop drama, lies and death, but this is sort of new to me still, okay?"

"You're cute when you're angry," he mused darkly, throwing me off kilter, I felt his smug appraisal, how me getting all hot and bothered was getting him all hot and bothered, my anger fueling his arousal, in fact, he looked particularly dark and tempting at he gazed across from me unwaveringly, slowly licking his bottom lip as his eyes roved me hungrily.

"Stop that!" in sheer exasperation I stood up, unable to keep still suddenly, "You're all nice and flirting one minute, and the next you're closed off and a total jerk, so you know what Eric Northman? You can keep your cute little comments and sexy come hither looks to yourself! I don't want them," I all but yelled in his face, the strain of earlier coming back ten-fold. Man I'm such a drama queen some times. He eyed me mutely from where he sat, me huffing and flushed, him as cool as a cucumber, watchful, calculating.

"Oh, but I didn't ask if you wanted them," his hand wrapped my wrist in a vampire fast flash, eyes boring upward, sizzling with heat and desire.

"Eric…." I toned warningly.

"Sookie," he mocked snidely, releasing my hand in an almost disgusted motion, "Playing hard to get grows old quickly, lover."

"So does playing the arrogant jerk!" I retorted, rubbing my wrist, trying to figure out why my skin tingled and burned at the contact, not enough to be painful, but enough to center my entire focus on that one section of flesh, almost as if his touch branded me. I swallowed hard; these affects were stronger, and less predictable than I would have guessed.

"I play at nothing," he countered, smirking at me haughtily. "If I am arrogant, it is because I have cause to be, and if I am a 'jerk'," he grinned, "then it is because you do not understand my motives." Ah, the entitled Viking King was back, to sit on his pompous throne of pretention and condescension. Watch the villagers applaud…

"That's because you never explain them," I pointed out crossly. He had one thing right; I didn't get him at all.

"I do not intend to," he agreed, peering up at me in cool appraisal, "There is no reason for me to explain myself to you, as you are so quick to always point out, we are nothing to one another. If my behavior bothers you so much, avoid it." He eyed me in mute challenge.

"I try, believe me I try," I muttered, punctuating my statement with a heavy sigh. I held my forehead, groping for a peace of mind that was currently elusive. When around Eric, everything seemed so much more intense, so vivid, that I got too caught up in the moment, let my emotions muck everything up, and it certainly didn't help that I had his feelings to contend with as well, making it nearly impossible to tell what I really felt and what were just an echo of his emotions. I started to pace, thinking comes easier for me when I'm in motion.

"Look, are you going to help me or not?" I demanded at last, staring at him with an openly exasperated expression, my lips a sour pout.

"That depends," he began in a careful tone, "on what is in it for me." His smoldering eyes traced my pacing form, their blue depths following me as he remained otherwise perfectly still; it was an unnerving feeling to have him so intently cataloging my every move, observing even the smallest of nuances. If I sighed, his eyes found my mouth, if I clenched my hands, he searched my expression for the cause, if I paused for a smallest second, he looked at me more intently, trying to decipher why. No one had ever paid me such attention before, certainly not like that, it was nerve wracking, flattering, and enough to drive a person mad. I felt like a puzzle box he was trying to crack.

"Oh, of course," I sighed the words, "wouldn't want to be _nice_ or anything, heaven forbid." I rolled my eyes.

"I am an opportunist, being nice is not something I care for, nor something I often indulge in," he paused, gauging me, looking as caustic and removed as ever, "Given that you are entirely set on believing the worst of me regardless, _nice_ holds very little appeal."

"Didn't I just risk my life to find your Maker? Twice, I might add. Doesn't that count for _something_?" I pressed, earning myself a condescending look.

"You will be well compensated for your services in Dallas, as we previously agreed," he responded looking infinitely bored, but his voice was still tense, bitter, "Although at this point, one might argue that you are mine, and your compensation should be at my digression, if there should be anything of that nature at all." He let me sputter over that for a moment, "However, I'm willing to allow that you do not see yourself as mine, despite the great service I have done in proclaiming you as such, at no benefit to myself, might I add." He gave me an arched look, "Is that not _nice_ enough for you, Ms. Stackhouse?" Eric sneered the last; I felt his building annoyance simmer in my veins like lava, his hands clenched where they lay on the leather armrest.

"You wouldn't know nice if it bit you on the ass," I told him in disgust, "I can't wait to get your blood out of me and go back to feeling normal," on sheer rash impulse I added coldly, "And for the record, I never want to see you again after this is all over." I regretted the words the moment I uttered them, for many reasons, the most prominent at the time, was his reaction to them. He flashed his teeth in a predatory snarl, standing in a blur of moon pale skin and shadow dark clothing, fangs distended, eyes angry and heated. He loomed over me, using his formidable height to impress his own dominating presence, and I felt my mouth go dry, my hands begin to tremble at his close proximity, and the vengeful look of sheer rage on his face.

"You are unworthy of tasting a single _drop_ of my blood," he proclaimed heatedly, his outward calm abandoned entirely, "do not doubt which of us regrets this more," he hissed ferally, "you ungrateful, spoiled, little brat. You speak of favors?" He growled, hands gripping my shoulders cruelly, fingers digging into my tender flesh, "I saved your pathetic human life, risked my standing with my Queen, turned against one of my own on your behalf, and for what? All this for a woman who is too blind to see my gift for what it is? _I_ _saved your life_," he spat in my face, causing me to flinch at the sheer venom in his tone, "Yet you act as if I owe you an apology, well, you shall have it. I am truly sorry I spared you your fate, perhaps a night in Sophie-Anne's care would have opened your eyes." He eyed me with a mute loathing I had never seen him turn towards me; I felt his disgust for me simmering in the air between us. I'd pushed him too far.

I felt despair flooding me, his or mine, I didn't know, my eyes watering at the sheer indifference in his stare, the piercing pain I felt stabbing at my heart, "I'm sorry I ever came." I whispered forlornly, jerking from his grip and making my way towards the door, my steps heavy, my mind a blank cavern of shock and growing sadness.

A silent presence occupying the doorway caused me to stop suddenly, eyes wide. How long had Godric been listening? I felt his displeasure hit me at once, like a cool ocean breeze, invigorating, but harsh, stinging with salt and tearing at my person with invisible claws. I felt Eric behind me, stewing in his own anger and angst, thick and hot, like a boiling pot of water, and me in the center, a whirlwind of emotions, the most prominent being confusion, and slight embarrassment that Godric had heard what had transpired between Eric and I. The term stuck between a rock and a hard place came to mind.

**A/N:** Don't hate me. More is coming, but people have been so great at reviewing I tried to work double time to get this one out. I love the advice! Keep it coming, I know I have a lot to learn, especially since this is my first time writing in the True Blood saga. Smut soon, I pinky promise.


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